


Trust

by Gemmiel



Series: Touch Me [6]
Category: Free!
Genre: Angst, Asperger Syndrome, Background ReiGisa - Freeform, Barebacking, Bottom!Haru, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Masturbation, Oral Sex, Rimming, background Sourin - Freeform, haru and rei friendship, haru and sousuke friendship, makoharu - Freeform, reigisa - Freeform, rin and haru friendship, sourin, top!Makoto
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-25
Updated: 2016-06-15
Packaged: 2018-06-04 11:17:03
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 14
Words: 24,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6655762
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Gemmiel/pseuds/Gemmiel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>"I don't think I understand how to love someone. What if I'm just not capable of it?" </p><p>Haru isn't sure how to return Makoto's love, or even if he can. He turns to his friends for answers.</p><p>A sequel to my stories "Touch" and "Teach."</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is a sequel to my stories "Touch" and "Teach." The main ship is Makoharu; Sourin and Reigisa are in the background.
> 
> As always, feedback makes me a very happy (and grateful) writer!

The message pops up on Skype while Matsuoka Rin is relaxing in his apartment late at night, watching videos of his favorite band on YouTube.

_-How did you know you were in love with Sousuke?-_

Rin looks at the message, shakes his head, and snorts.

_-Hello to you too Haru-_

The next message is terse and manages to convey the typical bristling impatience that Nanase Haruka displays whenever he and Rin speak. They're close friends, of course, but the two of them have never quite gotten the mechanics of small talk down between them. They tend not to chat so much as snipe at one another. Whether it's a race or a conversation, Haru never fails to get Rin riled up.

Rin loves it.

_-I asked you a question.-_

Rin laughs a little and shakes his head again, hard enough that dark red strands of hair break loose from his ponytail and fall into his eyes. Typical Haru, he thinks, straight to the point. Whatever point he's driving at this week, anyway.

_-Haven't heard from you in two weeks  
You could at least say hi-_

He's in Australia, and Haru is in Tokyo. And yet across the distance, despite the wide stretch of ocean rolling between them, he can easily picture Haru narrowing his brilliant blue eyes, maybe heaving an annoyed breath that blows his too-long bangs off his forehead.

_-Hi.  
Now answer the question.-_

_-God Haru,-_ Rin complains, _-you could ask how i'm doing every now and then-_

He thinks about it and adds, _-how are you? everything okay?-_

There's a long pause. At last Haru answers.

_-Things are either great or terrible. Haven't quite figured it out yet.-_

Rin considers that for a while. Cryptic though his reply may be, that's a whole lot more information than he ever expected to get out of Haru. The other guy is usually about as forthcoming as a a boulder, and as easy to read. Something must really be bugging the hell out of him.

He almost suggests they turn on video so he can see his friend, so he can look at his face and maybe get a better idea what's bothering him, but he decides against it. Haru has never been all that great with eye contact, and something tells Rin he doesn't want to meet anyone's gaze right now. Better to stick with words, he figures. The keyboard clicks softly beneath his fingers as he types.

_-Why are you asking about Sou-_

_-You're in love with him, right?-_ Haru is as blunt as ever. _-When did you fall in love with him?-_

Rin frowns. 

_-Since when do you care about love_  
_Are you writing a paper or something_  
_a sonnet for english class maybe-_

_-Do you have to answer every question with a question?-_

_-FINE,-_ Rin types, a little annoyed. Thinking about Sousuke, who's back home in Iwatobi, makes his heart hurt, and that makes him snippy. But it isn't Haru's fault that his boyfriend is an ocean away, after all. He relents and goes on with the caps lock off. _-I don't know Haru, i guess i fell for him pretty fast after he came back-_

He thinks about it and adds, _-i mean we were always really close, and when he came back home he was all grown up and i just looked at him and-_

His fingers pause in their progression over the keyboard for a long moment. He thinks about Sousuke, the power in his muscular body, and the gentleness in his big hands. The way he puts up with Rin's sharp tongue and hot temper, seeing so easily past the brittle, angry facade to the easily crushed heart inside. The way the corners of his eyes crinkle with affectionate, annoyed pride whenever Rin wins one of their janken battles. The way his solemn turquoise eyes light up with every smile... the way he smiles so rarely for everyone else, but so frequently for Rin... 

_-i guess that was that_  
_First time he smiled at me_  
_that was it-_

There's a long, long pause. Rin pushes away his too-vivid thoughts of Sousuke, does his best to ignore the ache in his chest, and goes back to checking out band videos on YouTube. (He's supposed to be watching videos of Olympic butterfly races for the eight millionth time, but it's late and he's spent much of the day swimming laps and he's fucking _tired._ ) Eventually he sees that Haru has replied.

_-Is it always that easy?-_

_-don't think so,-_ Rin answers. _-i'm just a romantic sap-_

He thinks about it, and adds, _-dude are you in love or something-_

He chuckles to himself, because he can't quite imagine Haru admitting he's in love with anything except water, although he supposes anything is possible. Barely. But there's another endless silence on Haru's end, and Rin starts to think that maybe it's not that crazy an idea after all.

 _-I don't know,-_ Haru responds at last. Another long pause, then:

_-That's the problem.-_


	2. Chapter 2

Makoto is still sprawled on the bed, fast asleep, but Haru sits curled in the corner of the bedroom, on the floor. The room is dark but for the light filtering through the blinds and the soft glow of Haru's laptop. He can hear the soft, regular sound of Makoto's breathing, and outside the window, the sounds of the city that never really go quiet, no matter the hour-- car engines and soft laughter and the rumble of machinery. It's not like Iwatobi, where if he woke up in the middle of the night, all he could hear was the gentle, steady pounding of the ocean against the shore.

It's late and he should be sleeping, because tomorrow he has early classes. But he can't seem to stop his brain from turning things over and over again.

_Ahhh, God, Haru, I love you._

He can hear the voice in his head, just as clearly as if Makoto were uttering those words right now. On some level, he desperately wants to say them back to his friend. He wants to love him back. Makoto, he thinks, deserves all the love the world has to offer.

But he doesn't know how to love. He doesn't know how to love anyone. Not even his Mako-chan.

The moment Makoto blurted out those words, Haru had realized he was in over his head. Way over his head. So (after two hours of staring at headlights flickering on the ceiling) he'd done the only thing he could think of, and Skyped Rin. His friend might be tactless, with a tongue as sharp as his teeth, but he also understands Haru better than anyone other than Makoto. And besides, he's been in a relationship with Sousuke for quite a while now, which means he knows a hell of a lot more about romance than Haru does. He's the closest thing to an expert to be found in Haru's circle of friends.

_-I don't get it-_ In response to Haru's last message, Rin's words pop up on Haru's laptop screen, terse, almost irritated. Haru can easily imagine his slanting eyebrows drawing down in a frown of mingled annoyance and impatience. He's seen that expression enough times, usually aimed at himself. 

Haru sighs. Words always fail him, whether they're spoken or written. But he tries.

 _-Makoto and I_  
_We-_

He can't decide how to finish that, so he hits enter and waits for the predictable response.

_-Holy shit-_

_-Shut up.-_

_-Damn Haru-_ He can see Rin's shark grin in his mind, all the pointy teeth showing in a wicked, knowing smile. _-I always knew the two of you had the hots for each other but I never thought-_

_-Shut UP. It isn't like that.-_ Except it is, kind of. What he and Makoto did was lovemaking, full of caring and tenderness and intimacy, but it was also, to put it bluntly, sex. He doesn't quite know how to describe it. He and Makoto have been close for too long for it to be merely physical, but-- well, it had definitely been hot. Very, very hot.

He thinks wryly that he now knows exactly what the phrase _fucked into the mattress_ means. He's sore, a little more so than he wanted to let on to Makoto, but it had been so totally worth the soreness.

_-what was it like then-_

_-It was nice.-_ Haru finally finds words, totally inadequate though they may be. _-Better than nice.-_

_-glad you two finally got a clue,-_ Rin types. _-so what's the problem-_

Haru sighs. _-I just don't know whether-_

He stalls out. Rin, who is never at a loss for words, promptly begins hitting him with a barrage of sentences.

_-you were asking about love_  
_did Makoto tell you he loves you_  
_or something?-_

It's a simple question, but Haru doesn't have the foggiest idea what to answer. He sits there in the darkness and listens to the sound of Makoto's breathing, the steadiness of it reminding him of the gentle, regular pounding of the waves against the shore at home. It's calming, grounding. He wonders what his life would be like without that sound in it.

He thinks it would be far too quiet.

_-holy fuck he did didnt he-_ Rin seems to be typing very fast now, with an almost complete lack of attention to punctuation. _-well of course he loves you haru, hes been in love with you forever any idiot could see that-_

Haru blinks at the screen. _-He has?-_

_-duhhhh,-_ Rin answers. _-but listen Haru you srsly need to be careful, Makoto is a sensitive guy and you could break his heart rly easily ok?-_

 _That's exactly what I'm worried about,_ Haru almost types, but in the end the truth of the words is a little too stark. Instead he responds, _-I just don't know how to love him back, Rin. I'm not sure I can love anyone. Not even Makoto.-_

 _-thats the dumbest thing i ever heard,-_ Rin answers with his usual exquisite sense of tact and courtesy. _-youve loved Makoto forever and anyone can see that too-_

_-You think I'm in love with Makoto?-_

A long pause ensues. At last Rin types, _-i guess i always thought you loved him yeah, even if i never figured you'd realize it, or do anything about it. but you guys were always together, and it seemed like nothing could ever split you apart. so yeah i'm pretty sure you've always loved him, even way back when we were kids-_

Haru can't deny that. _-I'm just not sure it's the same kind of love.-_

_-youd die for him right?-_ Rin must be typing even faster than before, because his sentences are less coherent than ever. _-i mean you swam out into the ocean to save him that one time makoto and rei and nagisa told me-_

Of course his meddlesome friends had told Rin all about that. _-I would've done that for anyone.-_

_-no for anyone else you wouldve called for help first we both know. you saw makoto was out there right in the middle of a storm and you totally freaked out-_

Only Nagisa could've told Rin that part of the story. Haru silently curses the little blond for his big mouth. _-So what?-_ he answers, a little more belligerently than he means to. _-He's my best friend. He's always been my best friend.-_

_-and then you flipped out again when you found out he was going to tokyo-_

_-I did not flip out,-_ Haru responds with dignity. _-I just didn't expect him to be the first to decide what to do with his life, that's all.-_

_-dude you were a mess, you were like completely lost the whole time we were in australia. ive never seen you so miserable-_

Haru scowls at the laptop for a long moment, refusing to dignify that obvious slander with a reply. At last Rin begins typing again, the words coming a little more slowly, as if he's thinking carefully about what he wants to say.

 _-Look Haru,-_ he writes, _-I just feel like you're making a bigger thing out of this than it really is, okay? I mean, Makoto loves you and you have feelings of some sort for him, right? Don't freak out, and whatever you do, do NOT run away again. Makoto doesn't deserve that, he's a good guy-_

 _-But even if you're right and I really do love him,-_ Haru answers, a little desperately, _-how am I supposed to know for sure?-_

_-Give it a couple of days,-_ Rin tells him. _-I think you'll figure it out, Haru. I really do-_

He pauses for a moment, then goes on, the words flowing more rapidly now, like he's trying to convey something really, really important. 

_-And Haru_  
_quit worrying so much_  
_just enjoy it okay_  
_just let yourself enjoy it for once-_


	3. Chapter 3

_**Just let yourself enjoy it for once**_

Haru remembers those words when he wakes up in the morning, the first rays of dawn sunshine slamming him rudely in the face with what he regards as totally unnecessary brilliance. It's early and the alarm hasn't even gone off yet, but Makoto is stirring behind him, nuzzling sleepily into his neck.

"Mmmmm," Haru says, and he's not sure if it's a sound of pleasure or a noise that means _get off me, you stupid orca._ It might be both. He's never been a morning person, and he doesn't think that's likely to change any time soon. He closes his eyes again, but he knows he's not going back to sleep, not now. There's something to be said for waking up with a big warm bare body pressed up against his own, and a heavy arm draped over him, and a hand slowly moving down toward his...

"Mmmppphhh," he says, and that is definitely not a _get-off-me-stupid-orca_ sound, because Makoto's fingers are trailing down his abdomen, and sleepy or not, he really likes the direction that hand is heading in.

"We have to get up in fifteen minutes," Makoto informs him. His voice is low and rough with sleep, so sexy it makes the little hairs on Haru's neck stand on end.

As far as Haru's concerned, fifteen minutes is more than enough time. He doesn't really understand Makoto's compulsion to drag things out, anyway. Why spend all that time teasing and touching and tormenting each other, when they could just go straight to the best part?

Apparently Makoto agrees for once, because his hand closes right around Haru's dick, gently but unsubtly. Haru jolts at the sudden overstimulation, then relaxes into it, letting his hips move, thrusting against Makoto's callused palm. His cock, which was already hard, swells even more.

Makoto sighs contentedly. His nose nuzzles against Haru's neck again, and Haru feels something else nudging against his ass. He flinches slightly, because he's aware of a certain soreness in that area, and he's not quite sure he's ready for that again. 

"No, not today," Makoto says, his voice soft and understanding. Haru fails to be surprised that Makoto knows him well enough to pick up on the most subtle of body language. They've known each other forever, so it's never a surprise when Makoto reads him so easily. In his mind, he hears an echo of Rin's words: _**you guys were always together, and it seemed like nothing could ever split you apart.**_ "Roll over, Haru."

Haru rolls toward him, not without effort. His body, ordinarily so honed and athletic and responsive, isn't very cooperative this time of the morning, especially considering he was up late sending frantic messages to Rin. But he manages to turn himself over and buries his face in the wide, warm expanse of Makoto's chest. The other man smells like sunshine and warmth, like a meadow full of sweet summer grass and wildflowers, and Haru breathes him in greedily.

Makoto wraps his fingers around Haru's dick, moving his hand slowly but firmly, and Haru moans into his chest. It's like every fantasy he's ever had about his best friend, only better. So much better.

"Uh." Makoto sounds like he's gone back to being that boy who can't talk about sex without blushing and stammering. "Uh, Haru, do you suppose you could..."

Oh. Right. He forces his sleepy brain to remember that this isn't an early-morning fantasy, but a shared experience with a real, live Makoto. He runs his hand down Makoto's belly, groping blindly (because he's too comfortably sleepy to open his eyes), and when he finds what he's looking for he takes Makoto into his hand too. He likes the little gasp the other man gives, the way his cock twitches against Haru's palm, the way he shivers a little.

Makoto's hand moves on him a little more firmly, in a slow, steady rhythm. It feels good-- not earth-shattering, but pleasant. Last night was completely mind-blowing, but this is just... warm. Nice. Comfortable.

Haru moves his own hand too. Makoto is hot against Haru's palm, satiny smooth, and so damn big that it's a little scary. Haru can't quite figure out how that fit in him, and thinks maybe it's better not to consider the question too closely, lest he freak himself out. Besides, it seems to him that in general he and Makoto fit awfully well together, considering they're not at all the same size. He's not exactly a little guy, but Makoto's so big, so powerful, that sometimes he does make Haru feel a little dainty in comparison. Which is both annoying, and weirdly arousing.

Makoto sighs again, a soft sound of pleasure. Haru can feel the tip growing damp, and he shifts, reaching down with his other hand, so that he can run a teasing finger over the head of Makoto's cock. Yeah, he's definitely wet, and more precome spills out as Haru strokes a finger over his most sensitive spots.

"Haru." Makoto's voice is a gasp, and Haru smiles to himself.

He moves his hand a little harder, jacking Makoto faster, letting his fingers continue to explore the delicate skin of the head, and Makoto whimpers into his hair, his body undulating almost like he's swimming underwater. His hand moves harder on Haru, too, and Haru feels his own spine arch as he drives himself into Makoto's hot, encircling fingers.

"Mako-chan..."

He has so many things to say. _I want to love you the way you love me. You mean so much to me, and I wish I knew if it was that sort of love, but I honestly don't know how to tell. But there is no one who means more to me, no one who could ever mean more to me..._

He has so many things to say, and he doesn't dare say any of them. Because the last thing he wants to do, the absolute last thing, is hurt Makoto, either by saying too much, or too little.

"Haru, ahhhh, Haru..."

They're stroking each other hard and fast now, both of them trembling, moaning. A few minutes ago, Haru remembers, he thought this was warm and nice and comfortable, but all of a sudden those words aren't adequate any more. Even sharing a quick morning handjob with Makoto is _intense._

_**I always knew you two had the hots for each other**_

Haru buries his face in Makoto's chest, feeling heat boiling up within him. He's close, so close that his legs are shaking and the muscles of his abdomen have gone rigid. He can feel the tension in Makoto's big frame too, and he knows they're going to come together. Just the thought is almost enough to make him lose it.

He feels himself twitching in Makoto's hand, and Makoto must feel it too, because... he stops.

Haru opens his eyes for the first time to see Makoto looking down at him through chocolate-brown lashes, his eyes so brilliant a green it almost hurts to look at them. "Makoto," he protests, and it comes out a whine.

Makoto's big hands catch his, stopping him before he can push the other man over the edge. They're both really, really close, though, and Haru feels incredibly irritated, because he was _thisclose_ to a perfectly good orgasm, and Makoto's thwarting him again. He's never been a morning person, and Makoto's ridiculous obsession with dragging things out is not helping his attitude in the least.

"Makoto," he whines again, trying to free himself, so he can rub up against Makoto or the mattress or even just grab himself and finish this on his own. He's that far gone.

Unfortunately, Makoto's hands are big and strong, and he has no intention of letting Haru go. He shoves Haru over on his back and leans over him, shifting so that he's kneeling between Haru's spread thighs.

His mouth brushes against Haru's chest, and Haru instantly forgets his irritation.

Suddenly he's no longer in a desperate hurry to get to the finish line. Makoto's lips are hot and soft, and they feel so good on Haru's skin that he wouldn't mind lying here forever, letting Makoto brush endless light kisses over his chest and abs. Makoto lets go of his wrists, and his hands automatically reach up and dig into the rumpled brown hair.

With every soft, tender kiss that Makoto gives him, he can feel the unspoken words: _I love you, Haru, I love you._ It's enough to make his eyes sting.

_**well of course he loves you haru, hes been in love with you forever any idiot could see that**_

Makoto kisses him like that for uncounted minutes, until Haru is quivering beneath him, almost overcome with physical sensation, as well as a swelling emotion he can't put a name to. At last the hot mouth trails lower, over his navel, and Haru's hands tighten in his hair. "Makoto--"

"It's okay, Haru." Makoto's voice is soft, but filled with confidence. "I want to do this."

Haru isn't at all sure about this, because despite the flashes of dominance, Makoto is still very much the shy, awkward boy he's always known, and he can't quite imagine Makoto going down on him without completely flipping out afterward. He doesn't want Makoto to run from him again. But he forgets to protest at the first brush of Makoto's lips over his-- his--

Oh. _Oh._

He remembers doing this to Makoto the other night, and the way Makoto reacted. It had obviously felt pretty good. But he hadn't had any idea that it felt like _this._ It's not like what they did last night, when getting to the point of ecstasy meant working through his body's resistance, having to overcome some fairly significant discomfort first. No, this is like pure pleasure slipping easily into his veins, swirling through his body in hot waves, filling him with indescribable bliss.

Makoto gets a little bolder, letting the head of Haru's cock slide between his lips, and Haru sobs out his name. 

He's already very close, and as Makoto's lips slip down, taking more into the warm wet heat of his mouth, he doesn't know if he can hold back any longer. Makoto is so incredibly generous, giving of himself so freely, so honestly. He's so much more sensual than Haru ever could have expected. Somehow he makes Haru feel that in this moment, as far as Makoto's concerned, he's all that matters.

Haru's long-held affection for his best friend burns fiercely inside him, twining together with the incredible physical sensations Makoto is giving him, until he can hardly bear it. He clutches wildly at Makoto's hair, gasps out _I'm close Mako-- I can't-- you should probably-- I don't think I can stop oh God oh Makoto--_

But Makoto doesn't stop.

_**just enjoy it okay**_

The climax that sweeps over Haru is the furthest thing from _nice_ and _warm_ and _comfortable._ It's an onslaught of sensation and emotion so powerful that he thinks it might just tear him apart. Heat and pleasure swell inside him, pressing against his skin until he can't contain it all, and he hears his own voice raised in a shout of anguished ecstasy as he comes in searing spurts, right down Makoto's throat.

It's almost impossible to believe his sweet best friend is doing this for him, but he can hear Makoto's throat working as he swallows, and he knows this isn't a fantasy. It's real. Very real.

Just like last time, his orgasm is physical and earthy and base, and yet it feels like more than that. A lot more. As the pleasure fades into a sweet warmth, Makoto releases him, and Haru falls back against the mattress. He gasps frantically for breath as a tangled knot of emotion unravels in his chest, leaving him aching and raw, too shaken to easily dismiss the words echoing inside his head.

_**i'm pretty sure you've always loved him**_


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in getting this up! We lost our internet for a few days. I wrote some stuff but couldn't get it posted!
> 
> Just so everyone knows, I wrote a short prelude to this series called "Loss" and reordered the series, so this story is now part 4. You aren't missing anything significant if you don't go back and read "Loss," however.
> 
> Oh, and this story has now passed the hundred-kudo mark. Thanks so much to all my lovely readers!

_-Do you still think love is illogical?-_

Ryuugazaki Rei is seated alone on the roof of the school, slowly and methodically eating his bento (optimally balanced for protein, carbs, and fiber, as well as arranged with a careful eye toward color theory), when his phone buzzes. He looks at the screen, and his eyes almost pop out of their sockets when he sees who’s texting him. He shoves his red-framed glasses up on his nose automatically and taps out an immediate reply.

_-Haruka-senpai! How are you?-_

_-Is love really illogical?-_

Rei hasn’t spoken with Haru in weeks, and is sincerely delighted to hear from him, but he’s familiar enough with Haru’s peculiarities that the abruptness does not offend him in the least. He would have been more surprised (and possibly concerned) had Haru actually responded with the standard courtesies. He blinks at the screen, considering the question.

_-Why do you ask? Are you in love, Haruka-senpai?-_

_-Just answer the question.-_

Rei knows Haru well enough to not be annoyed by his curtness. He gives serious thought about the best way to reply. He can reasonably infer that Haru wouldn’t be asking this question out of the blue, and so insistently, unless he had some particular interest in the answer. It follows logically, therefore, that he must be in love.

Rei sincerely hopes he’s behaved in a rational manner and fallen for the person who has quite obviously loved him for years, rather than doing something absurd and Haru-like by falling in love with the old man who cleans the university pool, or a dolphin at the Shinagawa Aquarium, or some such. He wouldn’t put it past his friend to decide he was in love with a particularly attractive fountain in downtown Tokyo, for that matter. With Haru, anything is possible.

 _-I used to say that love is illogical,-_ he answers slowly.

_-You used to say it ALL THE TIME.-_

Rei sighs at this reminder of how foolish he had once been. Well, he is older now, and presumably wiser. _-Yes. I did. But I have recently discovered, Haruka-senpai, that love is not as irrational an emotion as I once imagined it to be. In fact I now believe that although it can be a frightening experience at first, it can greatly enrich one’s life to open one’s heart to another.-_

A long pause. At last Haru responds, suspiciously, _-Have you been reading shojo manga, Rei?-_

Rei almost answers with an indignant denial, but he recalls certain volumes (which may admittedly tend more toward the yaoi than the shojo end of the spectrum) tucked discreetly away in a box beneath his bed, and decides he can’t lie to his senpai, even for the sake of his dignity.

_-Occasionally, perhaps. I have been exploring this question myself, through all the means available to me. I have found that manga provides a useful, if somewhat stylized, perspective of the cultural and societal expectations that surround the concept of love.-_

Haru seems to consider that for a few moments, or perhaps he’s typing messages to Rei while doing something else. He is a university student with a full schedule and a heavy swimming regimen to attend to, after all. There is a pause, but eventually he answers, _-And what have you learned?-_

Rei is pleased to find he’s not being mocked. He has discovered people often seem amused when he holds forth on his various theories. He has no way of knowing if Haru’s bright blue eyes are gleaming with his own subtle sort of laughter or not, but the words, at least, seem to express a sincere interest in Rei’s thoughts.

 _-I became interested in this subject,-_ he types, _-because of certain events I observed, which convinced me that love is perhaps not as irrational and illogical as I once believed. While watching Matsuoka-senpai and Yamazaki-senpai fall in love, for example, I noted that the experience seemed to benefit both of them.-_

_-You mean it made them totally unbearable to be around.-_

_-Not at all.-_ Rei is warming to his subject now, and decides to drop the honorifics in order to tap his thoughts out more rapidly. _–I observed that love made them different people. BETTER people. Rin actually became warmer and more approachable once Sousuke returned. Love seemed to grind off some of his rough edges, as it were. He seemed so much happier, so much more at peace, than before. And Sousuke—I think perhaps he might not have gotten through the disappointment of his injury had he not had Rin there to offer him support.-_

_-So you’re saying love isn’t illogical after all?-_

_-Precisely,-_ Rei types, _-In fact, I have grown to suspect love is an integral part of human existence, so much so that we cannot happily survive without it. It can be a messy experience, and yet the effect it has on our lives can be quite… well, beautiful. Love may seem silly on the surface, Haruka-senpai, but there can be no denying the fact that we as humans are social creatures. We require the formation of bonds with others in order to survive. These bonds do not necessarily have to be romantic in nature, of course, but for many of us, romantic love is both natural and necessary._

_-What about for you, Rei?-_

Rei is sure that Haru’s eyes are gleaming with suppressed laughter now. He doesn’t have to see him to know. He considers his response, very carefully. At last he answers, _-I told you, I have been exploring this question. Through ALL the means available to me.-_

 _-I see.-_ A pause. _-I don’t suppose I need to ask who you’re in love with.-_

 _-No,-_ Rei responds. _-I don’t imagine you do. And I don’t suppose I need to ask with whom you’re in love, either.-_

_-I don’t actually know if I’m in love, Rei. That’s the problem.-_

_-Oh, I see.-_ Rei can understand that. Love is not the easiest condition to diagnose, after all. He considers the matter. _-Well, as I said, I have been studying this topic for a while now. Does-_ He almost types a name, but thinks better of it. _-this person support you in everything they do? Do they make you feel stronger? Happier? Do you look forward to seeing them?-_

A long pause. _-Yes.-_

Warm affection fills Rei. The sincere manner in which Haru is answering his questions makes him quite certain they are not talking about an infatuation with a dolphin, or anything along those lines. Haru is plainly very serious about this, and he is happy for his friend, even though he can sympathize with his confusion. Love is indeed a confusing business. Rei knows that as well as anyone.

He goes on with his questions. _-Do you find it difficult to leave them? Do you find yourself wanting to talk to them often during the day? When you finally get to see them again, is it like the sun coming out from behind the clouds?-_

_-That’s a poetic way of putting it._  
_I’m not exactly a poet._  
_But yeah, I guess.-_

_-Do you often become breathless in their presence? Does your chest feel tight and your heart pound?-_

_-I’m trying to figure out if I’m in love, Rei, not if I’m suffering from heart failure.-_

Rei laughs out loud. He’d almost forgotten how much he loves Haru’s dry, subtle sense of humor. _-Answer the question, Haruka-senpai.-_

A pause. _-I guess so._  
_Yes._  
_Are you saying I’m in love, then?-_

 _-Only you can make that determination-_ Rei answers. _-But the symptoms appear to indicate that love may be the most reasonable diagnosis of your problem.-_

_-Okay.-_

There’s a long pause, and Rei thinks the conversation is finished. He’s shocked when the next message appears.

_-Thanks, Rei.-_

Rei gapes at the phone. It isn’t like Haru to say _thank you,_ or use any of the typical social niceties. _Love really does make us different people,_ he think, putting the phone aside. _Better people. Even Haruka-senpai._

He turns his attention back to his bento, and is nearly through with his lunch when he hears footsteps hurrying in his direction. He looks up to see a small, energetic figure bounding joyously toward him, blond wavy hair flying, rose eyes aglow. “Rei-chan!”

Rei feels like the sun has burst out from behind the clouds, and he can’t hold back a happy smile. His heart pounds, his chest tightens, and he discovers that he’s breathless.

“Hello, Nagisa-kun,” he says.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't get anything up yesterday! Here is a fluffy little chapter that still moves the story forward a bit. 
> 
> Also, with this update the Touch Me series moves past the 50,000-word mark. I can't tell you how amazed I am that you guys have stuck with it so long. Thanks for reading!! And as always, thanks so much for the kind words and the kudos! I really appreciate all the support!

_-How are you today? Sore?-_

Haru isn't particularly surprised to get a concerned text from Makoto in the early afternoon. It's like his friend to worry, especially over Haru, and even more so when he thinks he might be at fault. 

_-Fine-_ he responds. _-Not sore-_

He's guiltily aware that his reply is a little short, a little terse. It's not that he doesn't want to hear from Makoto; it's just that he's still mulling over the things Rei wrote in their texted conversation this morning. The idea that love might be something that humans find both necessary and natural honestly isn't one he's thought about a whole lot. He tends to think more of love as a peculiar alien emotion growing where it doesn't belong, like a weed in an otherwise well-tended garden.

The idea that romantic love might be a normal, ordinary part of human existence is strange to him, and he's mulling it over after his morning classes while sitting in the student center, eating an extremely healthy lunch consisting of a can of cola and rice crackers from the vending machine. If his coach happens to catch him eating this crap (in total violation of the list of approved foods he was given at the beginning of the semester), he's dead.

_-I'm glad you're okay,- Makoto answers. -I got a little carried away.-_

Despite himself, Haru remembers Makoto's substantial weight on top of him last night, the sound of his low, deep moans, the feel of his hot skin. But he can't seem to recall how Makoto looked toward the end. He supposes he must have had his eyes shut. 

Next time, he decides, he wants to see... to see...

 _-It was great once I got used to it-_ he taps out. - _I want to do it again tonight-_

A long pause. _-Haru, are you sure?-_

Haru rolls his eyes. He's not made of porcelain, for God's sake. _-Yes,-_ he responds. He considers the matter, then adds, _-This time I want to watch your face while you come-_

_-Haru!-_

He can imagine Makoto's rosy blush slowly spreading across his cheekbones, until it touches the tip of his nose and the tops of his ears with glowing pink. He's seen Makoto flush with embarrassment enough times that he can picture it perfectly. He can't stop his mouth from curving slightly. 

_-Are you blushing?-_

_-Of course not!-_ A pause. _-Probably.-_

_-Gonna make you blush more later-_

_-HARU. I am in CLASS.-_

Haru hears a soft puff of air escape his own lips. He realizes with surprise that he's actually laughing-- very quietly, to be sure, but that was definitely a laugh. _-Maybe you should pay attention to the professor, then, instead of sexting your boyfriend.-_

A longer pause.

_-Am I your boyfriend, Haru?-_

Haru stares at the text for a long moment. Rei's words rise to his mind: _**There can be no denying the fact that we as humans are social creatures. We require the formation of bonds with others in order to survive.**_

He blinks at the phone, all laughter gone, and thinks seriously about the question for a long while. It seems like one of the most important things anyone has ever asked him, and he's more than a little afraid that he won't manage to tell Makoto exactly what he's thinking. It can be so hard to make himself understood sometimes, and usually he finds that he's least articulate when words matter the most. At last he answers, trying really, really hard for clarity.

 _-You're more than just a friend, Makoto_  
_And you're not a one-night stand or anything_  
_So yeah_  
_I've kind of been thinking of you as my boyfriend-_

There's a long pause. At last Haru adds hesitantly, _-Is that okay?-_

The response is instantaneous. _-Oh yeah. Yeah. That's awesome, Haru-chan. I WANT to be your boyfriend.-_

He doesn't have to see Makoto's beaming smile and bright eyes to know that he's happy. It comes through clearly enough in the enthusiasm of his text. Haru feels his own lips curve again, and snorts at himself. Jeez, if he isn't careful he's going to sprain his face. But he can't seem to stop himself from smiling. He still isn't totally sure of his own feelings, but he's so relieved that this isn't just a friends-with-benefits thing that he could get up and dance around the student center. 

Well, no, he wouldn't do that in a million years. But he's dancing on the inside, anyway.

He remembers how Nagisa used to say he was always smiling on the inside. But today, he thinks, his inside-smile seems to be leaking out at the seams. He taps out a response.

 _-Me too_  
_I want to be your boyfriend_  
_Mako-chan-_

He imagines Makoto peering intently at his phone through dark-framed glasses, the lecturer forgotten. _-So this isn't just a sex thing, huh?-_

_-Not JUST a sex thing, no_  
_But I still want you tonight_  
_I want you inside me_  
_Only harder and faster this time-_  


_-HARUKA I AM TRYING TO TAKE NOTES-_

Haru huffs another quiet laugh, and swigs the last few drops of his cola. _-I have to get going anyway. Swim practice. But I'll see you tonight around dinnertime.-_

_-I'll be looking forward to it.-_

The words are ordinary, mundane, and yet they make a warm and happy glow spark to life, deep in Haru's chest. He can't help remembering what Rei asked him while attempting to "diagnose" his feelings. 

_**Do you look forward to seeing them? Do you find yourself wanting to talk to them often during the day? When you finally get to see them again, is it like the sun coming out from behind the clouds?** _

He thinks about seeing Makoto's happy face and vivid eyes at the end of the day, and can't stop himself from smiling a little more brightly. 

_-Yeah,-_ he answers. _-Me too.-_


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As usual, I couldn't get anything posted this weekend (especially because of Mother's Day). But here's a little something to start your week off with!
> 
> As always, thanks for all the kind feedback! It's much appreciated!

_-So have you figured it out yet Haru-_

Seated on the train and heading home after a long afternoon's practice in the pool, Haru turns on his phone to find a slew of messages. Rin's, naturally, is first, because Rin always has to be first in everything. But there are others as well.

_-Haruka-senpai, I wanted to follow up on our earlier conversation and offer further possible suggestions for differentiating love from friendship. I spent an hour after school researching the matter at the library, in case you needed additional data on the topic.-_

_-Haru-chan!!!!! MY BOYFRIEND says you have a really big secret!!! I bet I know what it is!_  
_PS dont blame Rei-chan, he didnt want to tell me about it but I stole his glasses and hid them till he talked_  
_He cant see a thing without them!!!-_

_-Hey Haru, I was making mackerel for dinner but I burned it, maybe grab some takeout on your way home? Sorry I still suck at cooking-_

Haru smiles a little at the last. He figures Makoto has plenty of great qualities. The fact that he can't successfully boil water is a very minor fault, in the grand scheme of things. He begins tapping out replies.

 _-Haven't totally figured it out-_ he answers Rin. _-Think I might be closer than last night tho-_

 _-I'm okay for now-_ he informs Rei. _-I'll let you know if I need more info-_

 _-Just because you and Rei are a thing now-_ he tells Nagisa sternly _-doesn't mean you should steal his glasses. Be nice or someone might steal HIM-_

And to Makoto, he replies, _-I'll pick something up, don't worry. See you soon-_

He thinks about it for a moment, and adds, _-Get ready to blush-_

*****

Oddly enough, an hour later it's Haru who's blushing.

"Mmmmm," Makoto is moaning. "Oh, _God,_ Haru."

He's not carrying on about a blow job, or a hand job, or anything along those lines. No, instead he's groaning like he's having an orgasm over the chocolate cake Haru brought home for dessert. Haru is a little turned on, his skin a little hot, because it's impossible to hear those noises and not blush. Mostly, though, he's annoyed, because Makoto is moaning as earnestly about that stupid cake as he ever has about anything Haru has done to him.

Haru realizes he is jealous of a chocolate cake, and decides that he has officially lost his mind.

But he thinks he has reason. He'd come into the apartment and instantly attempted to get Makoto to take him to bed, but Makoto (who sometimes resembles his mother a little too much) had insisted that he eat first. _You've been swimming for hours, Haru-chan,_ he'd said, quite reasonably. _You need calories._

The moment Haru had started eating the stir fry and rice he'd brought home, he'd realized Makoto was right-- he was starving. And he hadn't minded the quiet domesticity of sharing a meal, at least not until they'd started on the cake.

At his first bite of cake, Makoto had started making sounds that were, quite frankly, pornographic. Haru has been going quietly crazy since he started, twitching and blushing with every little moan Makoto makes. He can't decide if it's intentional seduction on his friend's part, but he thinks not. The other guy has never been much of an actor, and it's hard to doubt the sincerity of all those groans anyway. It seems more likely that Makoto is just really, really into chocolate.

Haru seriously regrets bringing that damn cake home.

" _Ahhhhh,_ " Makoto sighs in bliss, and Haru abruptly can't take this any more. He slides out of his chair, drops down beneath the table, and begins crawling across to Makoto on his hands and knees. Makoto stops making sex noises over the damn cake and looks down at him, wide-eyed, as he peeks out from beneath the table. "Haru?"

Haru crawls between his knees (which obligingly part for him), rises to a kneeling position, and begins fiddling with the zipper of Makoto's jeans. Makoto shoves his plate away, staring down at him. His eyes are dark with the expression Haru has come to recognize as lust. He pushes his chair back from the table a bit, just far enough that Haru has room to move around a little without whacking his head on the table's edge.

"Haru. What are you doing?"

He doesn't answer at first, just gently eases the zipper down. It's not easy, because Makoto is already getting hard. Haru can see his cock swelling visibly even through the denim, and the sight makes his mouth water.

"Whatever you want," he answers at last, his voice low.

Next he tugs down Makoto's boxers, releasing his cock, and stares avidly. It's fully erect already, flushed a dark red, and as he stares a little bead of precome forms at the tip, glistening like a pearl. He wants to lick it away so badly he can hardly stand it. He looks up at Makoto, a question in his eyes: _May I?_ Makoto exhales, a long, slow breath, and his big hand lifts to card gently through Haru's hair.

"I really like it when you're... you know... submissive," he says softly. His cheeks turn pink, but he goes on doggedly, like he's voicing something that needs to be said. "I mean... I kind of like telling you... telling you what to do. Is that weird?"

Haru considers the question carefully. "It's normal for Mako-chan," he says at last, deliberately echoing Makoto's reassuring words from the night before. He adds slowly, struggling to find the right words, "I think... it might be normal for me, too. That is-- not telling you what to do. The opposite. Doing what you tell me to do. I like it when you... when you tell me what you want. When you're on top. And when you hold me down, too."

"Haru," Makoto breathes. His voice is less than a whisper, barely audible.

Haru thinks about it some more, and decides he likes the idea that they're complementary somehow, that their desires fit together, interlocking like two pieces of a puzzle. He suspects that it won't always be that easy, that sometimes they'll clash because they both want to be in charge, that sometimes he'll rebel, or that Makoto will have days when he wants Haru to tell him what to do instead. But he figures they'll be able to work it out. Together.

He leans forward until his nose is mere inches from Makoto's cock. He can see more precome beading at the tip, and as he watches, it begins to spill down in a slow, tantalizing trickle. He can't stop himself from moaning softly.

"Mako-chan. Please."

Makoto draws in a deep breath, and Haru can see the moment he decides to accept that he's in charge of this particular encounter. "Go ahead, Haruka," he says, leaning back in his chair, still keeping his hand lightly in Haru's hair.

The sound of his full name sends a shiver down Haru's spine, but he discovers that he needs Makoto to tell him what he wants. He can't seem to move without direction. "Can I..." he begins, and stalls out in embarrassment. "Can I..."

"Right now," Makoto says, "I want you to use your tongue. Nothing else."

Makoto sounds confident, assertive, and Haru finds that being told what to do in that firm voice makes him dizzy with desire. In this moment he'd do anything for Makoto, anything at all. He leans forward, eager, almost desperate, and swipes his tongue over the swollen head. The other man makes a soft noise deep in his throat, and his fingers close on the strands of Haru's hair, gently but firmly.

"Good," he approves. "Do it again, Haruka."

Haru obeys, licking him more thoroughly this time, his tongue slipping through all that moisture, stroking all around the head, until Makoto gasps for air.

"That's enough," he says in a strangled tone, and Haru obediently stops, sitting back on his heels and looking up through his bangs, awaiting the next order.

"God, Haru." Makoto's voice is hoarse. "Stop looking at me like that."

Haru blinks up at him. "Like what?"

"Like-- oh, _God,_ Haru-chan. Like you'd do anything I asked you to do."

"But I would," Haru says, puzzled, and Makoto groans like the sound is being dragged out of him against his will. "What do you want me to do next?"

Makoto's hand tightens in his hair.

"Everything," he says softly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm going to try to wrap this one up in the next chapter, as it's become much longer than I ever intended, and I suspect it's getting to the wear-out-your-welcome point:-). I feel like I'd be grateful to finally have it finished, besides. Hopefully only one chapter left, and definitely no more than two. Thanks for all your patience, lovely readers!


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, dear readers! I am so very sorry for the delay! I had company and didn't have a lot of extra time to write, and then I went out of town for a week and had no real access to the internet. And then I meant to get this up this morning, but the morning got crazy, and turned into afternoon. My deepest apologies! I promised I'd have something up today, so here is a little something (which is 100% smut, and no actual plot at all). This is actually half a scene-- I'm going to try to get the second half finished by tomorrow morning, and post it as the next chapter. It's a little short, but I wanted to get something posted, as I really want to get back to updating this every day! 
> 
> As always, thanks for all the kind comments and kudos!

"More."

It's the third time Makoto has gasped out the word. His voice is hoarse with need and hunger, and Haru smiles to himself. He likes hearing Makoto like that, like he's slowly losing all his iron self-control. Like Haru is taking it away from him, bit by bit.

He does as he's told, and slowly runs his tongue up Makoto's erection again, finishing with a long, wet stroke over the swollen head. Makoto is almost impossibly hard by this time, his cock twitching with every caress, spilling out precome everywhere. Haru wants to give him more, wants to take it into his mouth and give Makoto everything, but he hasn't yet been told he can do that. 

At the slow drag of Haru's tongue across his aching flesh, Makoto groans, his back arching, his head dropping back. His fingers twine in Haru's hair.

" _More,_ " he says again, more forcefully this time.

Haru feels his mouth curve slightly at the raw desperation in the tenor voice. "I don't understand," he says, even though he knows perfectly well what the other man is asking for. "Tell me what you want, Makoto."

Makoto breathes heavily for a long moment, and then speaks, his voice filled with that steady new confidence that makes Haru's head spin.

"Take it-- ah, God, Haru. Take me into your mouth."

Obediently, Haru parts his lips, and very slowly sucks in the head of Makoto's cock. Makoto utters a shaky, sobbing noise, like he's being tortured, and his spine arches, shoving him deeper into Haru's mouth. Haru doesn't mind in the least. He remembers doing this last time, the way Makoto whimpered and shook beneath him, and the thought of doing it to him again makes him weak. He can't help thinking about this morning, too-- the way he came right down Makoto's throat, the soft sounds of him swallowing it all. The thought of doing that for his boyfriend in return makes him tremble.

He likes bringing Makoto pleasure.

And he _loves_ kneeling submissively in front of the other man.

He glances up at Makoto, to gauge the effect he's having, and sees Makoto staring down at him like he can't look away. Makoto is watching him do this with hunger clear in his eyes, and that makes something light inside Haru, something hot and feverish. He returns his attention to his task and moves on Makoto a little faster, taking in more of him, delighting in the high-pitched, frantic sounds the other man is making, loving the way his hips jerk helplessly, so that the old wooden chair creaks beneath him. The thought of Makoto coming down his throat in long, hot spurts makes him shiver with hunger.

But of course Makoto can never go from point A to point B without a lot of detours in between. Too soon he mutters, "Stop, Haru, stop," and Haru stops, because Makoto told him to-- and for whatever reason he feels utterly compelled to do what he's told. Even though Makoto's cock is quivering, spasming, so clearly close to the edge of orgasm that Haru could scream with frustration. But he pulls back, just a few inches, and waits for further instructions.

"Stand..." Makoto is gasping so hard that he can't put a coherent sentence together. He pauses, sucks in a deep breath, and tries again. "I want you to stand up, Haru."

Haru crawls around Makoto's leg, somewhat ungracefully, and slithers out from beneath the kitchen table, rising to his feet. He looks down at Makoto and awaits further instructions.

Makoto stares at him. His green eyes are dark and hungry, his gaze raking Haru up and down. At last he speaks, his voice a low velvet growl. "I want you to take your clothes off."

Haru is totally in favor of that. He's grown hard enough that his jeans are becoming increasingly uncomfortable. He grabs for his t-shirt eagerly, intending to yank it off as fast as humanly possible, but Makoto interjects a command.

" _Slowly._ "

Oh. He gets it now. Makoto wants a strip tease. He's not sure he's really the stripper type, but he's more than willing to try it. The force of Makoto's gaze is almost a physical thing, as if his skin is being caressed everywhere Makoto looks, and it makes him tremble with the desire to please. He reaches for the hem of his t-shirt, and very slowly pulls it up, so that a small sliver of his abdomen is visible. 

Makoto's gaze instantly shifts, so that he's staring avidly at the visible skin of Haru's abs. His eyes grow darker than before, and that strangely dangerous look settles onto his features. For a moment, Haru has the uncomfortable feeling that it isn't his old childhood friend looking at him, but a stranger. It makes his heart pound even harder than before.

Since they've shared locker rooms since they were very small, Haru has been unclothed in front of Makoto many times. Two nights ago he took off all his clothes, stretched out in bed, and waited for Makoto to come home, and last night they slept stark naked in each other's arms. But somehow he has never felt as vulnerable and exposed as he does at this moment, with Makoto's hot, hungry gaze fixed on two inches of his abdomen.

"Go on," Makoto grates. His brown hair is growing damp with sweat, the shaggy bangs hanging into his eyes. His knees are still parted, his cock jutting straight up out of his open jeans, flushed and dripping and quivering. He's so impossibly sexy that Haru desperately wants to drop back down on his knees and finish sucking him off.

But Makoto is in charge, so he does what he's told.

Slowly, he lifts his shirt so that his entire abdomen is visible, then pauses. Makoto is staring at his abs like he's a masterpiece of sculpture, instead of a perfectly ordinary guy, and the look in his eyes is so intense that Haru can hardly breathe. He hears himself gasping for oxygen, and notices that Makoto's breathing is shallow and unsteady, too. 

Slowly, very slowly, he draws the shirt off the rest of the way. His nipples are already hard and aching, and the leisurely slide of soft fabric over them drags a needy moan from the depths of his chest. He yanks the shirt off over his head and tosses it aside.

He reaches for his belt, his legs shaking beneath him, only to stop at Makoto's curt command.

"Not yet."

Damn it. Haru is almost painfully hard now, and he wants his jeans off in the worst way. He glances down and sees that Makoto is even bigger and harder than before, and he swallows, almost overcome by his craving for touch. Erotic images fill his brain, flashes of memory from last night, when Makoto stretched him, filled him, _fucked_ him.

"Makoto," he whispers. "Please."

The green eyes study him for a long moment longer, as if gauging the depths of his need, then Makoto nods.

"All right, Haruka," he says. His voice is hoarse, but steady, like he's in total control again. "Come here."


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for the delay, guys!! It's been a crazy week. Here is the next installment (in what is apparently the world's longest never-ending sex scene). I hope to get this endless sex scene finished up tomorrow, and maybe wrap up the story, too. I appreciate your patience and your kind comments and kudos. Thanks so much for reading!

Haru moves forward, a little uncertainly. He isn't sure exactly what Makoto wants of him, but whatever it might be, he's more than willing to do it. The bigger man pulls him down, so that he's straddling the muscular thighs. The wooden chair creaks ominously under their combined weight, but holds. Haru braces himself, his hands on Makoto's shoulders, and waits, breathing hard.

He wants to slide forward, but one of Makoto's big hands has fastened on his hips, holding him back, preventing him from grinding against what he wants. Which is probably best for Makoto, considering Haru's still wearing jeans. Denim rubbing against exposed flesh probably wouldn't be totally comfortable for the other man. Makoto's other hand reaches up, and begins gently caressing one of Haru's nipples. Haru groans, and his hands dig into the broad shoulders.

"Ahhhhh. Ahhh, _yes,_ Mako-chan."

His nipples are almost unbearably hard with arousal, and Makoto lifts his other hand too. He strokes Haru's nipples with his thumbs, in a slow, teasing motion that makes Haru's back arch, and then he suddenly pinches them both, fairly hard. Haru can't hold back a cry of near-ecstasy. He flings back his head, and only his desperate grip on Makoto's shoulders prevents him from falling back onto the table. The chair creaks dangerously beneath them.

"Come here," Makoto says gently, and rises to his feet, pulling Haru upright too. Haru whimpers a protest, but his protest dies out when he realizes where they're headed. Makoto leads him into the bedroom, then sits on the edge of the bed and pulls Haru back down into the same position, straddling his lap. Haru tries to move forward a second time, but Makoto holds him back.

"Not yet, Haru."

Haru hears a little whine rise from his own throat. He thinks he sounds more pitiful than usual, but he can't help it. He needs contact, intimacy, so badly he can't stand it. But his whine subsides when Makoto's fingers find his nipples again, and before long he's writhing on Makoto's lap, moaning. His moans turn to desperate cries when Makoto bends down and takes a nipple in his teeth.

"Ahhh, God, Makoto!"

His fingers tangle into Makoto's hair (without permission, but thankfully Makoto doesn't object) and his body arches wildly. Makoto has bitten him here before, but he's never lavished so much time and attention on his nipples, and Haru finds himself rapidly melting into a mindless puddle of lust. He wants to push Makoto down onto the mattress, or maybe collapse onto his back on the bed, dragging the other man down on top of him. He needs full-body contact in the worst way. He's already desperate for release, just from having his nipples teased, and when Makoto's hands begin working at his belt, he sobs with relief and anticipation.

Makoto unzips his jeans and pushes his briefs out of the way, freeing his cock, and Haru whimpers. But when Makoto's hand closes around him, he tries to object.

"Makoto-- no-- I told you, I want--"

"No, Haru." Makoto's tone is firm, brooking no argument, and his big hand moves on Haru, sending waves of pleasure through him. He's totally in command now, and Haru is helpless against him. "I can't control myself enough, not right now."

He lets go of Haru, and digs his fingers into his hips, pulling him forward, so that their cocks are flush. Haru cries out at the contact. The clawing need to have Makoto inside him tears at him with savage hunger, and yet-- this is nice too. Better than nice. Incredible. Their cocks brush together, smooth and hot and wet, and he buries his face in Makoto's shoulder, trying to smother his cries of pleasure.

He struggles to move against Makoto, but the other man easily holds him motionless. Haru needs more stimulation, craves it, and he whimpers again, helplessly.

"Please, Mako-chan-- please--"

He isn't even sure what he's begging for. The satiny brush of Makoto's cock against his. The hot slide of his swollen flesh inside Haru's body. The feel of Makoto's lips against his skin. The sound of Makoto's voice, telling him he loves him. He's at the point where any of these things would help assuage the growing ache inside him. He doesn't care. He just needs-- needs--

Well, he needs Makoto. That's all there is to it, really.

But as usual, Makoto seems to have embarked upon a one-man campaign to thwart Haru's release for as long as humanly possible. Makoto isn't moving at all now, just holding Haru against him. He can feel Makoto's hot, hard cock pulsing against his, throbbing with every shared beat of their hearts, and he wants to rub against it _so badly._ If only Makoto would do that thing he does, wrapping his fingers around them both, so they can thrust into the warm circle of his hand together...

Haru imagines the two of them coming as one, imagines it spattering all over their abdomen and chests, and just the thought of it is enough to make his cock spasm hard. He moans into Makoto's shoulder, a sound of desperate need and frustrated desire, and strains harder to move.

"Hold still," Makoto says into his hair. "If you want me to be inside you, Haru, you're going to have to let me have a minute or two to calm down."

Haru doesn't want to calm down. In fact he's pretty sure he's not capable of it right now. But he does want Makoto inside him, very, very much. He remembers the feeling of Makoto thrusting into him, fast and steady and commanding, the amazing sensation of Makoto's hard cock striking against his sweet spot over and over again, and he shudders violently.

"Haru. Take it easy."

Haru almost snaps that if he wanted him to take it easy, maybe he should've left their goddamn jeans zipped. But he manages to swallow back his irritation. Makoto's weird delaying tactics get on his last nerve, but if he's going to be perfectly honest about it, he has to admit the other man has an instinctive grasp of how to drive him crazy, and that sooner or later, he always manages to bring Haru to incredible peaks of pleasure. When it comes to Haru, Makoto knows exactly what he's doing.

Haru manages to get a grip on himself, and waits, trembling with eagerness.

"Okay," Makoto says at last, and Haru lets out a shuddery breath he hadn't been aware he was holding. "Stretch out on the bed, Haruka."

Haru doesn't particularly want to move away from Makoto, but he can't stop himself from being obedient when the other man speaks in that authoritative tone of voice. He shifts, moving (reluctantly) off Makoto's lap, and flops onto his back. He's lying across the mattress, but it's a wide bed and it doesn't seem to matter much.

Makoto gently tugs his pants and briefs off. Then he sits up, still wearing his own clothes, and studies Haru's bare body intently, with that hungry, assessing look he gets sometimes. He looks like a tawny-maned lion considering how to best make a meal of a gazelle, and everything inside Haru clenches in anticipation.

_Fuck me, Makoto. Please._

He isn't quite far enough gone yet for the words to overcome his natural tendency toward reticence, but he thinks them, and lets his eyes express the thought to Makoto.

"Soon," Makoto promises, stroking a big hand through his hair. "But first we have to make sure you're ready, Haru. I kind of screwed this up last night. I want to make it better for you."

"It was fine." It had been much better than fine. It had been completely awesome. But he doesn't have the ability to express what it was really like, doesn't have the words to describe the heat and the pressure and the rapture of it. As usual, words aren't enough. 

"I think it can be better." Makoto's hand slides down his body and begins stroking the inside of his thighs. Haru is very sensitive there, and it almost tickles. But he likes being touched there. Oh God, he likes it. He lets his legs fall open, offering himself as freely as he knows how, almost purring with pleasure.

"That's good," Makoto says approvingly. "You're a lot more relaxed than you were last night. I guess it helps to know what to expect, huh?"

Haru suspects that goes both ways. He remembers how scared Makoto seemed to be of hurting him last night, remembers his own voice, pleading frantically for more. _You won't hurt me-- please-- I'm not going to break, I swear--_

Makoto seems a lot more confident in his own skin tonight, probably because he now knows they can do this without Haru being maimed or torn apart or whatever horrors he was imagining could result. Makoto has always been a worrier. He's the kind of guy who always dips a big toe into the pool to see if it's warm enough. Whereas Haru is more the sort of person who just leaps right into the deep end.

If this were all up to Haru, they'd be plummeting into the deep end together and letting the water close right over their heads. He'd be yanking Makoto down onto him and trying to force this too fast, and he'd probably forget about lube, too. All of which likely wouldn't add up to a very positive experience for either of them, so he figures it's a good thing he has Makoto to hold him out of the water till they're both ready to swim. 

Makoto's hand slides lazily up and down his bare thigh, from knee to groin and back again, over and over, until Haru's hips begin to move of their own accord. His cock is bobbing eagerly against his stomach, dripping precome, and when he steals a glance at Makoto, he sees that his is still hard as a rock, too. It's huge and red and perfect, jutting out of his jeans, and he stares at it, practically mesmerized. That was inside him last night, and it's going to be again. And he can hardly wait.

Last night, he was almost frozen by fear of the unknown. Tonight, he's burning with anticipation.

Makoto bends over him and replaces his fingers with his lips, pressing his mouth against the inside of Haru's knee. Haru's eyes drift shut, and he utters a long, heartfelt moan. 

The hot mouth trails up and down his thigh, and Haru squirms on the bed, panting Makoto's name as his legs part even more widely in instinctive submission. He's given himself over to this entirely, given himself over to Makoto so fully and completely that he'd gladly do anything the other man wants, anything at all...

He feels Makoto's tongue trailing across his skin, and whimpers. But then he feels his tongue in an entirely unexpected place. His thoughts about doing anything Makoto wants, _anything at all,_ instantly dissipate, and he yelps.

"Hey!"

Makoto pulls back instantly. "No?"

Haru's eyes are wide with shock, and he scrambles backward, forgetting that he's sprawled across the bed. Only Makoto's quick, strong hands save him from crashing backward, onto the floor. 

"Easy," Makoto says softly, like he's soothing a panicked animal. His hands are gentle on Haru's waist. "Easy, Haru. I didn't mean to freak you out."

"You-- you--" Haru doesn't think of himself as a prude, and he's heard this stuff talked about among his classmates often enough. Even so, it's never really occurred to him that anyone would want to-- well. Especially Makoto, who always used to blush at just about anything. Who a short week ago couldn't say the word _lube_ without turning red, for God's sake. 

"I'm sorry," Makoto says, and his voice is still soft and comforting. "I wasn't trying to upset you. I just want this to be good for you, Haru-chan."

Haru struggles for the unemotional tone that always used to come naturally to him. "I wasn't upset," he says, and it's true. Upset, no. Surprised, yes. Freaked out... definitely. "I just wasn't, uh, expecting that."

He doesn't add the obvious, which is that he couldn't really have ever expected his sweet and innocent boyfriend would try to _eat him out._ He's shocked right down to his toes--not because of what Makoto tried to do, but simply because it's _Makoto._

He remembers the way Makoto sucked him off this morning, the sound of his throat working as he swallowed it all, and realizes he really needs to get over thinking of his boyfriend as some sort of flawless and innocent angel. He suspects that maybe on some level, he's still looking at the other man and seeing his childhood friend, the little boy with enormous emerald eyes and a sweet gap-toothed smile, who was afraid of everything from thunderstorms to ghosts, and who cowered behind Haru every time he got scared.

But they're both grown up now. Makoto is undeniably fully mature, as interested in sex as he himself is, and he's obviously familiar with most of the concepts involved. And yet Makoto still possesses the same generous, unselfish nature he always did, and naturally wants to give Haru everything he possibly can. That's simply how Makoto is, both in bed and out of it.

He thinks that it's kind of scary, how generous Makoto is. He gives and gives, stripping away all Haru's defenses with a simple touch, and maybe that's the real problem here. It's not so much that he can't wrap his mind around this new, sexy version of his longtime friend, but that being so open, so exposed, even to his very best friend in the world, is a little unnerving. What Makoto was offering him was incredibly intimate, and he thinks maybe that was a little too much for him to process all at once.

But if they're going to be a couple, if this is going to work, then he needs to give up on his defenses, and let Makoto have all of him. He can't hold back. He has to give it his all.

"Sorry," he says, and settles back down on the coverlet. "I was just surprised, that's all. It's okay, Mako-chan."

Makoto hesitates a moment longer. In the green eyes Haru can see concern, maybe anxiety, and he could kick himself for making Makoto second-guess his actions. But he reminds himself that they both have to be comfortable with everything they do together, and that it's perfectly okay for him to say no too. 

The thing is, he's pretty sure he didn't really want to say no to what Makoto was offering. In fact, he realizes, he definitely wants to say yes.

Words fail him again, as they always do, but he knows how to get his point across without them. He reaches for Makoto's hands and takes them in his, trying to drag the other man down to him again. Makoto still pulls back, resisting the insistent tug.

"I don't want to freak you out again," he says, biting his lip.

And all at once, Haru finds the words he was looking for.

"You won't," he says, looking Makoto straight in the eyes. "I trust you."


	9. Chapter 9

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Darn it, why can't these boys get their act together? Getting this tangled mess resolved is harder than I anticipated. But it will happen. Eventually.
> 
> In the meantime, please enjoy this small offering of smut. This story now has over two hundred kudos-- thank you all so much!!

"All right," Makoto says. "Roll over."

Haru blinks, because that command isn't quite what he was expecting. He hesitates.

"Trust me, Haru." Makoto's voice is steady and calm, like he's shaken off his worry. Like he's totally back in charge of his emotions. "Roll over."

Haru remembers his own words: _I trust you._ And of course he does. He's known Makoto almost his entire life, and they've been inseparable for virtually all that time. He trusts Makoto like he trusts no one else on the planet. Maybe that's why it's so easy for him to give up control to the other man. He's pretty sure he'd fight anyone else, tooth and nail, but with Makoto, he doesn't mind submitting. In fact he enjoys it more than he ever thought possible.

He flops over onto his stomach, crossing his arms beneath his head and resting his chin on them. 

"Raise your hips."

Haru draws his knees up under him, lifting his ass into the air. It feels stupid and awkward, and he imagines he looks ridiculous. An unaccustomed sense of self-consciousness floods him, but he reminds himself that he trusts Makoto not to laugh at him or mock him. He knows the other man well enough to be certain that he'd never react that way. He just hopes Makoto isn't going to be disgusted and put off by this particular activity.

He's really, really glad he took a long and thorough shower after swim practice.

Makoto seems to have thought better of going straight for his hole, anyway, and simply brushes gentle kisses over Haru's glutes instead, until Haru begins to relax. This isn't so bad. It isn't as intimate as he feared, anyway. And it feels pretty good-- not ecstatic by any means, but it's definitely pleasant.

Before long, though, he feels Makoto's big hands on his ass, parting his cheeks, exposing him, and an involuntary shiver-- part anticipation, part fear-- runs through him. And then--

He hears himself give a startled gasp. It's not like the last time, not at all. He remembers his unhappy reactions from last night: _It feels kind of weird. I don't think I like this. I **want** to like this... I just don't..._

But this-- this is somehow totally different, warm and wet and impossibly exquisite. He's never really believed that particular area could possibly be an erogenous zone, and last night, in fact, he'd found being touched there to be somewhat irritating. And yet somehow... he's so sensitive there, and Makoto's tongue is exploring him with such tender care, that it feels shockingly sensual.

Makoto begins with cautious little jabs of his tongue, so soft, so tentative, that Haru can barely feel them, but before long he's circling Haru's entrance with more confidence, exploring the fragile flesh there with long, wet strokes. Haru feels himself shaking, and he can't hold back the long sound of pleasure that rises from his chest.

Makoto whispers exactly the same words he asked last night. "Does that feel good, Haru?"

"Unnnggghhhhhh." Haru realizes that's not a totally articulate answer, and he knows that after last time, Makoto needs reassurance, so he tries again. "Yes. God, yes."

Makoto makes a little noise that sounds like a satisfied chuckle, and his tongue goes back to work. Haru clutches at the coverlet and buries his face in his arms so as to avoid crying out, but he can't totally smother his vocal responses. Makoto is sliding his tongue against him more firmly now, and Haru can't hold back the strangled sound of ecstasy that escapes him as Makoto's tongue breaches him for the first time, opening him. 

And then he's lost, utterly lost, completely under Makoto's command. He can't stop himself from whimpering, sobbing, begging for more. Makoto teases him for long moments, alternating rimming with pressing his tongue deeply inside, and he doesn't stop until Haru's body is soft and relaxed and thoroughly ready for possession.

Haru moans pitifully when Makoto pauses long enough to grab the lube. This time, when Makoto's slick finger finds its way inside him, there's no discomfort, only the pleasure of being filled, and Haru hears himself gasping out broken, hungry words, _more_ and _please_ and _yes._ And over and over again, _Mako-chan._

Even when a second finger joins the first, there isn't much discomfort, only a small burn that's rapidly subsumed in pleasure. Haru finds himself pushing back against Makoto's hand, his body begging wordlessly for the fulfillment he knows Makoto can give him. Eventually Makoto crooks his fingers and finds his prostate, and an unbearable wave of heat sweeps over Haru, dragging a hoarse shout from him. His body shudders, aching and needy, so close to a climax he can hardly bear it.

And then Makoto is pushing in-- _oh, God_ \-- a third finger, and Haru feels his body stretching greedily to take it in, and when Makoto brushes his sweet spot again, he hears an animal sound of desperate desire falling from his own mouth. His cock jerks and his balls tighten and he shakes all over.

" _GodyesMakotopleasenow **please!"**_

He feels Makoto shifting behind him, and he almost voices a protest, because he remembers he wanted to watch Makoto this time, watch his face as he climaxed, but he doesn't have the strength in his muscles right now to move, or the strength of will to object to anything the other man wants to do. He's surrendered completely, and he's willing to do this any way Makoto wants.

He feels Makoto's cock pressing against his entrance, hard and hot and slick with lube, and he sobs with overpowering need.

Makoto slides into him, slowly at first, and the feel of his body stretching around Makoto's cock, the sensation of total submission to another's will, is incredible. It burns a little, but the feeling of being filled is so good that he doesn't care about the slight discomfort, which fades quickly anyway. Makoto grips his hips and moves into him, steadily and gently, until he's fully sheathed, and then he holds perfectly still. Haru can feel his cock quivering deep inside, and he waits, gasping, feeling his own muscles twitching and pulsating around Makoto.

He can feel the brush of denim against his ass, and realizes that while he's totally naked, totally exposed, Makoto is still wearing his t-shirt and jeans. Haru's not sure why that's so hot, but it definitely is. It's like Makoto couldn't even take the time to yank his clothes off before fucking him. Just the thought makes his inner muscles spasm hard, and Makoto gasps.

" _Haru._ "

Haru arches his spine, pushing back, straining to take even more of Makoto inside. The other man groans, his hands gripping Haru's hips harder than before, and slowly, he withdraws, then sinks all the way into Haru again. Haru can feel the hot, hard flesh brushing over his prostate, and he buries his face in the coverlet, smothering the cries of pleasure that he can't quite hold back. His hands clutch the fabric desperately.

Makoto does it again, slowly, deliberately, and Haru shudders at the powerful rush of pleasure that fills him. He hears himself begging-- _harder, Mako-chan, harder, please_ \-- but Makoto keeps withdrawing and thrusting, in a slow, steady rhythm that's rapidly driving Haru to madness. With every stroke across his sweet spot, the pressure inside him seems to grow, until it's all but unbearable. His cock jerks wildly, dripping precome all over the bed, but in this position he can't even rub himself against the mattress to get relief. 

He's totally at Makoto's mercy, and Makoto seems to have no intention of letting him come any time soon.

Makoto moves just a fraction harder, and Haru's cries grow louder, higher-pitched, as the need inside him intensifies. He tries to buck against the other man to force him to greater speed, but Makoto has a firm grip on him-- and, apparently, on his own responses. Considering how he gasped and moaned when Haru was sucking him off earlier, he's displaying astounding self-control now. He's not even crying out, just uttering low, soft groans as he moves in and out. It's almost infuriating how calm he is, when Haru is balanced so precariously on the edge of what he instinctively knows will be an incredible climax.

"Makoto." His voice trembles like he's about to cry. Maybe he is. He doesn't know any more. "Please... please..."

Makoto pauses, sheathed deep within him. The pressure and the heat filling Haru is utterly intolerable now. His balls ache and his cock is almost painfully swollen. "What do you want, Haruka?"

Haru shudders at the use of his full name. "Please," he whispers again. He's begging, but he doesn't care. " _Please._ "

The fingers dig into his hips, harder than before. "Do you want me to fuck you harder, Haru?"

The sound of Makoto's sweet tenor voice saying the coarse word almost tips Haru right over the edge. He buries his face in the coverlet, shaking. "Yes. Please."

"Do you _really_ want this, Haru?"

There's a slight edge in Makoto's tone, an edge that could almost be... hurt. Some of the sexual fog blanketing Haru's brain starts to lift, and suddenly he begins to understand why he's stark naked, while Makoto is still fully clothed. Why Makoto has brought him to this state of wild need, while keeping a grip on his own responses. Why Makoto hasn't kissed him on the mouth a single time today.

He remembers this morning, when Makoto gave him a blow job, reducing him to a trembling, weak mess-- and then declined any return favors, claiming they didn't have time before classes.

He thinks about Makoto's voice last night, the way he cried out, _Ahhh, God, Haru, I love you,_ and the way he got so angry afterward. So defensive.

Haru isn't very good at understanding other people and their messy, complex emotions, but he knows Makoto. He understands that he felt defensive because he'd been exposed... and Haru hadn't been.

And now, whether he's doing it consciously or not, he's turning the tables, making Haru vulnerable, tearing down all his defenses, while keeping himself distant, removed, emotionless.

Haru closes his eyes against the sting of tears. He aches for his boyfriend, and the hurt he's experiencing. He aches for the complications he's inadvertently introduced into their relationship, which used to be so simple and straightforward. He wishes he were normal, so that he could understand love the way other people do. Makoto means so very much to him. If only he could say those words honestly in return, and soothe the hurt he unintentionally inflicted... 

He remembers Rin's words: _youve loved Makoto forever_

But he's not as certain of that as Rin is, and so he just can't say _I love you_ with complete and total sincerity. Not yet. So he says the next best thing.

"Yes," he whispers. His voice is soft, but he knows Makoto can hear him. "I want this, Mako-chan. I want you. I want you so much."

Makoto exhales loudly, like he's been holding his breath, waiting for Haru's answer. A shudder runs through his big body. He pulls out of Haru, almost all the way, and thrusts hard, so hard that Haru's vision flares white and he hears himself give a long, wavering wail as heat and pleasure swell inside him.

And then Makoto's slamming into him over and over, moving hard and fast, and the aching knot of pressure inside of Haru unravels instantly.

His cock jerks in spasm after spasm as he comes in long, scalding spurts, his release so intense he can't even cry out. His head arches back, his teeth grind together, and his toes curl hard. Makoto doesn't cry out either, only gives a soft gasp as he comes, but Haru feels the rush of heat deep inside him, feels the powerful fingers dig into his hips for a long moment, and then slowly relax.

As the rush of ecstasy recedes, Haru lies there huddled on the mattress, gasping for breath, barely conscious. Eventually he feels Makoto pull out of him. He hisses at the small sting, which pulls him toward wakefulness, and rolls over, flopping onto his back. He expects Makoto to lie down next to him and wrap his arms around him, heedless of the mess they've made on the coverlet, but instead Makoto rises to his feet. His jaw is set and his shoulders are stiff.

"We'd better get to studying," he says, avoiding making eye contact with Haru. 

Haru's heart sinks a little, because he knows that Makoto always falls back on studying as an excuse when he's trying to stay emotionally distant. But he also realizes he can't push Makoto on this, any more than Makoto can push him. Pushing won't help, because neither of them can help how they feel. And he gets why Makoto is feeling threatened and uncomfortable right now. He really does.

And besides that, they _do_ both have studying to do.

"Okay," he says, somehow managing to keep his voice steady. "I'm going to take a bath first, and then I have a paper I need to work on."

Makoto nods. Silently, he zips up his jeans, turns away, and stalks out to the living room. 

Haru stares at the ceiling for a long moment. At last he gets to his feet, wincing slightly, and heads for the solace of the bathtub.


	10. Chapter 10

_-I need some advice.-_

Relaxing in his too-small bedroom, sprawled on his too-small bed, Yamazaki Sousuke blinks for a long moment at the message that pops up on Skype. At last he types a single word.

_-Nanase???-_

The response is typical of the other man: short, terse, and not bothering with any of the usual social courtesies. Classic Nanase, in other words.

_-I need some advice from someone in a relationship.-_

_-oh-_ Sousuke answers. - _right, Rin said you and Tachibana finally acknowledged your weird sexual tension and did something about it_ -

_-Rin told you??-_

_-Rin tells me everything.-_ Sousuke tries not to sound too smug about it. The days when he thought Haru was a rival for Rin's affections still aren't too far behind him, and he can't resist rubbing in the fact that Rin is his boyfriend, and not Haru's. Not that he seriously believes Rin and Haru were ever involved, but Haru obviously had the hots for Rin at one point. Because after all, who doesn't?

_-Damn it_  
_He has a big mouth-_

_-He's a romantic,-_ Sousuke answers. _-he was happy for you guys-_

He thinks about it, and adds, _-I would've been happy for you too, only i figured you'd manage to screw it up somehow-_

_-Fuck you, Yamazaki.-_

Sousuke laughs. _-You better save that for your boyfriend, Nanase-_

_-Ugh. I don't even know why I'm talking to you.-_

Sousuke almost retorts that it's because Nanase is a loser, but he takes a look around, and sighs. He's the one living in his old childhood bedroom, helping out in his parents' shop, and taking random courses at the local college in Iwatobi, with no actual idea what he wants to do with his life. And Rin, the only good thing in his life right now, is on the opposite side of the ocean. Whereas Nanase is attending an excellent college in the big city, living in sin with his boyfriend, and heading at full speed for the Olympics. He's pretty sure Nanase isn't the loser in this conversation.

Not that he's bitter or anything.

He heaves a sigh, and tries for a light, snarky tone.

_-Because you've already fucked things up and you are in need of my wisdom to help straighten out your life, obviously-_

He can almost see Nanase bristling, the blue eyes throwing off sparks.

 _-I haven't fucked things up. I just_  
_Well yeah_  
_I guess I have, sort of_  
_Help-_

Sousuke's mouth falls open in shock, because he's never seen Nanase actually admit he needs help before. Especially not from him, of all people. Obviously this is more serious than he thought. He quits trying to piss the other guy off, and types a more serious response.

_-I'm not sure I'm the one to ask, why not ask Rin? He's better at relationship stuff-_

_-But he's a romantic, like you said. I need advice from someone like me.-_

_-Like you??-_ Sousuke can't prevent himself from sounding indignant at being compared to Nanase Haruka, of all people. _Are you saying I'm cold and distant and emotionally constipated?-_

_-Pretty much yeah-_

_-Bite me Nanase-_

_-Please, Yamazaki.-_ Sousuke can feel the desperation in those simple words. _-I need your help.-_

Sousuke sighs. He's not particularly eager to become Nanase's confidant, but... well, Rin would want him to help. Nanase is Rin's friend, and that makes him Sousuke's friend too. Well... his acquaintance, anyway. He and Nanase have not and will never really be friends, even if they came to a sort of understanding during that stupid water gun battle.

_-Okay, tell me what happened. Rin said Tachibana blurted out a confession?-_

_-Yeah-_

A long pause. Sousuke sighs, because getting Nanase to communicate is like pulling teeth... without anesthetic.

 _-So you couldn't say it back to him. And now, let me guess. Tachibana is stomping around and sulking and acting all butthurt-_

There's a pause, like Nanase is surprised.

 _-Um sort of_  
_I mean yeah he's definitely upset_  
_How'd you know that, anyway? I didn't tell Rin that part.-_

_-I know the two of you well enough to know how you guys operate,-_ Sousuke answers. _-Tachibana wears his heart on his sleeve, and you keep yours in an iron box with a giant lock on it. There was no way you guys were going to get together without someone getting hurt along the way-_

_-I don't want to hurt Makoto.-_

Sousuke rolls his eyes. _-Well you're not doing it on purpose are you?-_

 _-He just wants me to tell him I love him_  
_If I could just tell him that he'd feel better_  
_I mean it's just three words, why can't I say them?-_

Sousuke sighs. He's never been so glad to be dating a starry-eyed romantic. Rin might have a hot temper, but when he isn't pissed off (which is often), he's open and generous with his emotions, which makes this sort of thing so much easier. 

_-Look, Nanase,-_ he types, as reasonably as he can, _-you can't tell him you love him if you don't-_

 _-But I might_  
_I mean Rin thinks i do_  
_And Makoto means a lot to me_  
_I'm just not sure-_

Another long pause. Sousuke scowls at his laptop. He's starting to lose his patience. Nanase often has that effect on him.

 _-You can't say it if you're not sure you mean it_  
_That'd just make things worse for Tachibana in the long haul_  
_And it's not something you can just make yourself feel_  
_So get over feeling guilty about it okay?_  
_It's not your fault-_

 _-But it is_  
_I should be able to say it back.-_

 _-It's not your fault,-_ Sousuke repeats. _-If anything, it's Tachibana's fault. He chose you, Nanase-_

He thinks about it, and adds, _-God knows why-_

_-Fuck you, Yamazaki.-_

_-Yeah, yeah. Look, my point is that he loves you, and he knows you well enough to love you the way you are, right?-_

Another pause. _-I guess-_

Sousuke struggles to put his thoughts into words that will help, not hurt. This feelings crap is too complicated for him. He's lucky, really, because he's loved Rin forever, and he's always known it. And Rin feels the same way. _-He could've gone for someone a little easier to get along with, a little less complicated, but he didn't. He decided he wanted you-_

_-So?-_

_-So he loves you the way you are, emotional constipation and all_  
_He knows how you are, and he ought to realize you aren't going to magically just turn into a heroine from a shojo manga_  
_You're not the kind of guy to go around with little hearts in your eyes, and he knows that_  
_He's just upset right now_  
_But once he calms down and thinks about it he'll be okay-_

_-You really think so?-_

He imagines those big blue eyes brightening, and he can't help smiling a little. It's not that he feels any friendship for Nanase or anything. It's just that Rin will be happy if he gets this idiot straightened out.

 _-He loves you Nanase_  
_He'll get over his butthurt, don't worry_  
_Just go on being who you are-_

He pauses, then grins and adds, _-Painful though that may be for the rest of us-_

_-I hate you, Yamazaki.-_

Sousuke can't help laughing. _-Likewise, Nanase-_

There's a long pause, and he figures Nanase has gone off without saying goodbye, because that's how the guy operates. Basic things like courtesy and respect for others seem to be beyond him. He's honestly not sure how Tachibana puts up with him without murdering him. But at last there's another message.

_-Thanks, Sousuke. I really appreciate the advice.-_

Sousuke's eyes go wide, and he stares at the screen in befuddlement for a long moment. Apparently Nanase has grown up a little.

Either that, or he's been taken over by an alien puppet master.

Sousuke feels another smile curve his mouth at the thought. It's weird, because usually the only person who can make him smile this much is Rin. Nanase usually makes him want to put his fist through the wall, but tonight... well, it's almost like he's developing a little affection for the guy. Almost like they're truly becoming friends.

Nah, he assures himself. That's never gonna happen.

Even so, he tries really hard to make his final message courteous and supportive. Not because he's fond of Nanase or anything. Just because it's how Rin would want him to act.

 _-You're welcome, Haru,_ \- he answers. _-Good luck-_


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Angst warning. Lots of angst. I cried while writing it, and I never cry when writing, so... yeah. Angst. That being said, I am very pleased with how this chapter turned out. It does pull in some plot threads from "Loss" and "Teach," so if you haven't read those stories, you may wonder where some of this stuff is coming from. Just know that there are callbacks to both of those stories here.
> 
> Also, this chapter carries a warning for emotional abuse (not between our heroes, of course). 
> 
> Thanks for all the kind words! Your comments and kudos are the fuel that keeps me writing!

_Just go on being who you are_

Haru is half asleep in the darkness, curled up in Makoto's arms. Makoto smells good, having showered before bed, but apparently the combination of sex and studying exhausted him, because he's already snoring softly. Or maybe he just didn't want to talk about what happened between them earlier. Haru is tired too, but he can't quite seem to fall asleep. Instead he keeps going over and over his conversation with Sousuke in his head.

_It's not your fault_

Those are some of the most reassuring words anyone's uttered to him recently. It's really kind of odd that he'd find anything Sousuke says to him to be comforting. Sousuke always used to irritate the hell out of him. But lately, ever since that silly water gun fight...

_He could've gone for someone a little easier to get along with, a little less complicated, but he didn't. He decided he wanted you_

Talking to Sousuke on Skype had actually lifted his spirits quite a bit. But now, in the darkness, with the sound of Makoto's steady breathing in his ears, he's beginning to worry again. Despite the reassuring words, he's still pretty sure everything that's happened _is_ his fault. He knows Sousuke is right, and that he truly can't help being the person he is. But the trouble is, that person isn't good at relationships, or love, or any sort of affection, really. He never has been. And Haru's unhappily aware that it's his inability to love that drives people away from him. 

That's what drove his parents away, anyway.

It _was_ his fault. All his fault.

He closes his eyes, remembering, as he drifts into sleep.

*****

"Stop worrying about it," his father is saying, his tones as clipped and impatient as ever. "The boy doesn't care if we leave. Remember? The doctor said so."

His mother's voice is small, meek. "That isn't quite what he said..."

"' _Asperger's syndrome,_ '" his father says, mimicking the dry, dull voice of the doctor Haruka saw in Tokyo, "' _is characterized by significant difficulties with social interaction, restricted interests, and the inability to empathize with others._ ' He doesn't give a damn about us. He _can't._ All he's capable of caring about is the water."

"But we're not even sure if he--"

"The boy doesn't love us," his father goes on, steamrolling over whatever his mother was trying to say, as he always does. "He's totally incapable of feeling love or affection. So he'll be just fine here. In fact he'll be much more comfortable than he would be in a strange place. Remember what the doctor said, about how children like this don't adapt to change well? Being in the big city would only distress the boy and make things worse. And at least here, he's near his goddamn ocean."

Haruka is thirteen, curled up in his own bedroom, but he can hear every word his father says without even trying to eavesdrop. His father is speaking loudly, uncaring as to whether his son is listening or not. His father rants about Haruka frequently--about his strangeness, his peculiarities, his unusual habits-- as if his son can't hear him, as if he's just an object, rather than a human being. As if his feelings can't be hurt by hearing his father talk about how weird he is.

"But he's so young," his mother says, her voice quavering.

"He'll be just fine with your mother. She's been here a month already, and she understands how to handle him. She's patient enough to cope."

Haruka senses that his mother isn't entirely happy with his father's plan, but he also knows his father will win in the end. He always does. His father is like the tide, implacable, irresistible, unstoppable, and his mother... his mother is a footprint in the sand, easily washed away by the waves.

He isn't entirely sure why his parents are leaving, but he does understand that they're leaving him behind because he's weird, and because he doesn't love them enough. _Totally incapable of feeling love or affection,_ his father said.

But the problem is, he's pretty sure that his father's wrong, and that he does love them. At least he loves his mom. He loves her a lot. But he's not sure how to tell her so. If only he could manage to say the words the right way, he thinks, his parents would take him along. They would have to.

Wouldn't they?

Days later, his parents are leaving, packing all their things into the gleaming new car his father recently purchased. Bags stuffed with clothing and other items are being placed into the trunk, and Haruka hovers just outside the circle of activity, uncertain, anxious. He's still very young, and he doesn't want to be left with his grandmother. He doesn't know her all that well, and the thought of being left alone with her scares him.

He feels like he's being abandoned. His heart pounds in his chest, his hands won't stop trembling, and his eyes sting with barely suppressed tears.

"Well," his mother says at last, turning toward him. The brilliant summer sun creates a golden halo on her shining black hair, making her look like an angel. Her mouth is curved in an artificially bright smile, but Haruka thinks her dark, fathomless eyes look like they're brimming with sorrow. "We're going to go now, Haruka. We'll call you when we get to the city."

Haruka wants to stare at her, to memorize her face in case he never sees her again, but he can't help looking away. He's never been good with eye contact, particularly not when he's nervous or upset.

"Don't go," he mumbles, staring down at the dirt road.

His mother's lower lip quivers, and his father speaks for her, impatient, brusque.

"We have to go, Haruka. Don't make a scene."

 _Don't make a scene. You're too old to cry. Stop drawing attention to yourself, boy. Look at people when they're speaking to you. Don't look so damn sullen all the time._ These are the words his father barks out on a daily basis, words that let Haruka know exactly how much his mere existence embarrasses his family. He knows perfectly well that his father doesn't want him, but his mother-- his mom--

He struggles to express himself one more time.

"I don't--" _I don't want you to go. I don't want to be left behind. Don't leave me, don't go. Please don't go._ There are so many words he can think of, and so few that he can actually seem to say. "I don't..."

He fades into silence, defeated by language once again. His father snorts, and turns his back, getting into the car without even saying goodbye.

His mother stands next to the car, looking at him. "Haruka," she says gently. "I'm sorry."

He knows she's leaving him, maybe forever, and panic wells in his chest, forcing sudden words from his throat.

"Don't go," he bursts out. "I love you, Mom. I do."

"Oh, Haruka." She looks at him a long moment, and he waits for her to take him in her arms and hold him, the way she used to when he was little. He waits for her to stroke his hair and tell him it's all a mistake, that she won't leave him, no matter what his father says. He waits for her to say, _I love you too._

But she only shakes her head sadly, turns away from him, and gets into the car.

The car door slams, and the car drives away in a cloud of dust, leaving Haruka standing there all alone.

*****

"Haru? Haru!"

Haru awakens to someone shaking him, and a worried voice calling his name. He's still lost in his dream, tangled in strands of memory from all those years ago, and for a long, panicky moment he can't figure out where he is.

"Mom," he gasps. "Mom?"

"No, it's me." Strong arms wrap around him, protective, comforting, and suddenly he snaps back into the present. 

"Mako-chan," he whispers, and buries his face in the warm, broad chest.

"It's okay." Makoto holds him close, rocking him gently. "You had a bad dream, Haru. That's all. Just a dream."

"It wasn't... just... a dream." Haru hears the hoarseness in his own voice, and only then does he realize his face is streaked with tears. "It was real... I dreamed about... about..."

"About your mother." Makoto's voice is icy. He's never liked Haru's parents.

"My mom. The day she left. She _left_ me, Makoto."

He utters the words in a very small voice, and gives a hiccuping sob against Makoto's shoulder.

"I know. I know she did. I'm sorry, Haru."

Haru's hands dig into his shoulders, clinging to him. "I told her-- I told her--" His voice cracks, breaks on a sob.

"It's okay, Haru. It was a long time ago now. It's all over."

"It's not!" Haru wails. The dream-memory is still fresh in his mind, and the pain bites into his heart like it just happened. "I told her-- and she still left me-- and she never came back, Makoto, _she never came back!_ "

"Shhhh." Makoto is still rocking him softly. The room is dark but for the never-fading lights of Tokyo filtering in through the blinds, but Haru can't see anything but a bright, sunny day, and a cloud of dust disappearing in the distance.

"I told her," he moans into Makoto's chest. "My father said I couldn't, that I didn't even know how to say it, but I did-- but she didn't care-- it didn't even matter to her--"

"Shhhh." Makoto is struggling to soothe him, stroking his hair. "Easy, Haru. What did you tell her?"

"I told her-- I told her-- I said I loved her." Haru's fingers dig into the other man's shoulder blades, desperate for something to hang onto. "I asked her not to go. And all she did was-- was--" He can't force the words out, but Makoto understands. Makoto always understands.

"She left you anyway," Makoto says. His voice is deadly cold.

Haru nods against his chest, and bursts into fresh tears, sobbing like a child.

"I've never-- I've never--" He struggles to get himself under control, and fails miserably. "Never said it again. Not to anyone. Not even my grandmother. I can't, Makoto, I'm sorry, _I can't--_ "

"It's okay," Makoto says. The ice has melted out of his tone, and he sounds close to tears himself. "Haru, it's okay. I understand."

"I'm sorry. I'm so sorry. You deserve someone-- someone who's normal-- someone who can-- who can say--"

"Shhhh." Makoto puts a finger under his chin, tilts up his head, and kisses him on the mouth, heedless of tears and snot and Haru's choking, pitiful sobs. "I don't want anyone else. I only want Haru."

All at once Haru remembers sobbing into Makoto's chest on another night, after his grandmother died and his parents abandoned him a second time. He remembers covering Makoto in snot and tears that time, too, but Makoto never once objected. He remembers himself, back then, telling Makoto, _You don't have to stay._ And Makoto's response: _I want to stay._

And it's still true. After everything that's happened, after all these years... Makoto still wants to stay with him.

There is one constant in his life-- Makoto. Always, always, no matter what, Makoto is there. For whatever reason, Makoto is always there for him.

No. He knows the reason. It's because Makoto loves him.

_He loves you the way you are, emotional constipation and all_

Makoto's lips are warm and tender and soft, and Haru clings to him with wordless adoration. Makoto kisses him for a long time, sweet, gentle kisses that say everything, without a word ever being spoken between them. And somewhere along the line, Haru's tears dry and his sobs fade to silence.

When they finally drift back into sleep, he wraps his arms around Makoto and doesn't let go.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry I didn't update yesterday-- I had to take a little break after writing all that emotional stuff! Here's a short, fluffy transitional chapter.

_-I'm sorry, Haru. I've been acting like an ass-_

Emerging from a campus building into the warm morning sunlight, Haru checks his phone, and blinks in surprise at the contrite message waiting for him. Due to an early class this morning, he'd had to leave the apartment before Makoto woke up, so this is the first conversation he's had with his boyfriend today. He considers the words on his phone's screen for a moment, then texts, _-You don't have anything to apologize for, Makoto.-_

 _-Yeah I do,-_ Makoto answers. _-I was being a jerk to you. You know I was. And I freaked you out so badly you had a nightmare last night. It was stupid and I'm sorry-_

Haru thinks about that for a long moment as he walks along. The vivid Technicolor of last night's dream has faded to muted sepia tones, as usually happens with dreams, but he still remembers the outlines of it, enough to know that it was pretty much exactly what happened when he was thirteen. And in his distressed, half-hysterical state, he'd blurted out enough of the story for Makoto to understand exactly what happened with his mom on that long-ago day. He remembers his own voice, choked with tears: _Never said it again. Not to anyone. I can't, Makoto, I'm sorry, I **can't--**_

All things considered, it's really not all that surprising that Makoto feels a little guilty about his behavior. But Haru also remembers that it was Makoto who comforted him after his dream, who held him, kissed him, and told him everything was all right, over and over again.

 _-You couldn't help being upset,-_ he responds at last.

_-I guess not but being upset doesn't mean I get to be an asshole-_

Haru shrugs before he remembers the other man can't see him. _-It's okay, Makoto. Don't worry about it. I'm an asshole all the time.-_

_-True, but everyone's already used to that-_

Makoto adds a smiling emoticon, presumably to let Haru know he's teasing, and all at once Haru hears a peculiar sound come out of his own mouth. He is, he realizes with shock, laughing out loud. Embarrassed, he claps his hand over his mouth.

Makoto goes on, more seriously. _-I think maybe if we're going to make this work, we need to work on talking to each other-_

_-You talk ALL THE TIME, Makoto.-_

_-But not always when I should_  
_You said something like that to me once, and it's true_  
_Sometimes we talk the least when we should be talking the most-_

Haru can't argue that. He remembers the angry words that burst out of him during a fight last week: _You never stop talking! Except when it really **matters,** damn it._

It's true enough. Makoto has always been a fountain overflowing with an endless stream of words, but he doesn't necessarily always tell Haru what he's really thinking, deep down. And heaven knows that if it was up to Haru, the two of them would never, ever discuss anything important. And that's a problem, because despite his natural antipathy toward words, he has to admit that there are times when things need to be said.

 _-You could be right,-_ he answers. _-But if you're in class right now, you should be paying attention to the professor, not me.-_

_-I'm waiting for class to start-_

_-Oh okay. So what do you want to talk about?-_

_-Well I was thinking we ought to stop focusing so much on what we can't say_  
_And focus on what we can say-_

Haru reaches a shaded stone bench, which is mercifully empty, and settles onto it, putting his backpack aside and stretching out his long legs. He studies the screen curiously. _-Like what?-_

 _-Well-_ In his mind's eye, he can see Makoto blushing. The thought of a bright pink flush spreading across Makoto's face until it reaches his ears makes the corners of his mouth curve upward involuntarily. _-I just want to make sure you know I'm really happy that we're living together Haru-_

 _-Me too.-_ Haru isn't much good at expressing his feelings, but then again, this isn't exactly new information he's sharing here. _-When I thought you were leaving and I'd never see you again-_

He hesitates for a long moment, then goes on. _-I felt like I'd lost everything.-_

_-Yeah me too_  
_I mean I was telling myself I needed to go_  
_I guess I did need to go_  
_The local college didn't offer the courses I need_  
_But the thought of leaving you behind hurt like hell_  
_So I'm glad_  
_Glad you're here-_

A pause, during which Haru imagines another bashful blush, and then Makoto adds, _-And I'm really glad we're dating now too-_

Haru blinks as something occurs to him. _-Actually,-_ he answers, _-we're not dating.-_

A long, uncomfortable pause. _-We're not?-_

_-Well I mean, we haven't actually gone on a date yet, have we? I mean watching a movie together at home doesn't count, we've been doing that for years.-_

_-We haven't been doing the other stuff for years-_

Haru almost chuckles at Makoto's reversion to talking about sex in politely vague terms like "other stuff." It's pretty funny, considering he clearly remembers Makoto's low, rasping words last night: _Do you want me to fuck you harder?_ Makoto obviously still hasn't quite decided whether he wants to be a shy, sweet smalltown boy, or a sex god.

But that's okay, because Haru likes him both ways.

 _-True,-_ he answers, _-but that's not really dating is it? I mean people have sex without a real relationship all the time. If we're really going to be dating, then we probably ought to actually go on dates.-_

The idea of going out as an actual couple makes a pleasant warmth curl in his chest. He imagines seeing Makoto all dressed up, the shaggy hair neatly brushed, his big hand holding Haru's as they walk down the street together, and his heart beats a little faster. But he realizes this means going public with their relationship, and he's not quite sure if the other man is totally ready for that. Stepping out of the closet can be scary, especially for a fearful, easily intimidated guy like Makoto. He bites his lip and waits.

Fortunately for his nerves, he doesn't have to wait long. Makoto responds with an enthusiastic burst of words.

 _-Okay_  
_I'd like that Haru_  
_I would like to go on a date with you_  
_Where should we go?-_

Relief washes through Haru, and he considers the matter carefully. _-I don't think we can do it before Friday,-_ he answers, somewhat regretfully. _-I have practice every afternoon and we're both buried in papers right now. But maybe we can go out Friday evening?-_

 _-Sure_  
_Yes_  
_That sounds fun-_

_-Cool. We'll talk about where we want to go when I get home tonight, okay?-_

_-Okay_  
_And Haru_  
_Even if we're not going on a date till Friday_  
_We're still, you know, a couple_  
_So can we still_  
_You know_  
_?-_

There's another long pause, and Haru is pretty sure Makoto must be bright red by now. His mouth curves again at the thought of his boyfriend turning crimson while sitting in a crowded lecture hall, and he can't resist making him blush just a little bit more.

_-Don't worry, Mako-chan,-_ he answers. _You can screw my brains out any time you want.-_


	13. Chapter 13

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You guys have been so, so patient, and I thank you so much for waiting! It's been a busy week filled with cleaning and family, and then the awful news from Orlando. I've had this mostly-done for days, but I just couldn't find the time (and then the motivation) to get it edited. But here at last is some smut for your reading pleasure. I thought this might be the last chapter, but it didn't work as a single chapter, so there will be one more chapter after this one. Hopefully I'll get the conclusion to this story up tomorrow-- but because we still have that date to go on, along with a new plot thread I introduced in this story that requires some resolution, there will need to be a *sigh* sequel.

_I want to try something a little different._

Those are the last words Makoto had texted him at the end of their morning conversation. Haru had assured him _You can screw my brains out any time you want,_ and Makoto had replied with those slightly cryptic words. Haru's been thinking about them, wondering about them, all day, through the remainder of his classes, through his swim practice, while eating the dinner he got on campus, and through the research he did at the library.

Now it's almost ten o'clock, and he's trudging home from the train station, those words still echoing intriguingly in his mind.

_Something a little different._

When he finally walks into the apartment, it's dark. Pitch black, really, like Makoto hasn't come home yet, or has already gone to bed. Haru hesitates, the hair on the back of his neck prickling, but he doesn't flip on the light right away. "Makoto?" he says softly into the darkness.

"Haru." The tenor voice is close by, but he can't see Makoto. He can't see anything at all. "Come this way."

 _Something a little different._ Okay. He drops his bag, kicks off his shoes, and pads carefully toward the voice.

"This way." The voice sounds like it's retreating, and Haru follows it. His eyes are beginning to adjust, but it's still damn dark. They usually leave the blinds cracked so a reasonable amount of light sifts in, but tonight they seem to be shut tightly against the glare of Tokyo. Haru glances in their direction, and the lack of any light at all makes him suspect Makoto actually went to the trouble of covering the blinds with towels or something similar. The whole apartment is cast in charcoal tones, and Haru can't see anything other than vague, looming shapes. The entire apartment seems to be nothing but shadows.

He walks into Makoto's bedroom (which has somehow become "their" bedroom over the past week), expecting something romantic. Candlelight, maybe, like the night he lit all those candles and waited for Makoto in the nude. Soft music. Rose petals scattered over the sheets, maybe. That's the kind of sweet, charming, romantic gesture he expects from Makoto. 

But all that greets him is darkness.

"Makoto?"

"I'm here." The voice is much closer now. A familiar hand wraps around his wrist, tugging on him gently, and Haru goes toward the voice willingly enough. Another hand presses against his cheek, tilting his head back, and then Makoto is kissing him softly, warmly, on the lips. Haru makes a happy sound deep in his throat, and his free arm wraps around Makoto's neck.

He missed this last night. The kissing, that is. Makoto had brought him to a spectacular climax, but there had nevertheless been something a little hollow about it. Makoto had been holding himself back, keeping himself at a distance, emotionally speaking, and Haru had missed the feel of his lips, missed the way Makoto's kisses make him feel, the warmth they kindle inside him.

Tonight Makoto's lips are warm against his, chaste and gentle and almost impossibly tender. Haru likes being kissed like this, but he can't help wanting more. His lips part and his tongue traces the shape of Makoto's mouth, the lush fullness of his lower lip, the bowlike curve of his upper lip. Makoto has a beautiful, expressive mouth, but in the darkness Haru can't see it, so he traces its lines very carefully with his tongue.

Makoto makes a little rumbling sound, and then his arms slip around Haru's waist, holding him closer, and the tip of his tongue barely brushes Haru's.

Suddenly they're no longer kissing quite so tenderly. Makoto yanks Haru closer against his big body, and Haru clings to him, his legs parting in involuntary invitation. Makoto's thigh slips between his, and he presses up against it, moaning deep in his throat. All of a sudden he's hard, so hard, and he craves the pressure of Makoto's body against his. The sculpted, powerful muscles of Makoto's thigh are more than satisfactory, and he rubs against them with mindless need. 

_He's got such great quads,_ he remembers Gou saying once, dreamily, and it's true. The musculature of Makoto's thighs is nothing short of amazing.

Their mouths cling together, Makoto's tongue delving hungrily into his mouth. Haru remembers their first kiss, which was sloppy and wet and messy. That was only last week, but the two of them have learned a lot since then. At least Makoto has. His kisses are commanding now, forceful and deep and utterly drugging in their intensity. He's already figured out how to make Haru weak and helpless with lust.

Haru digs his hands into Makoto's hair, needing more. His head falls back in submission, begging wordlessly for _more harder deeper,_ and Makoto gives it to him, kissing him until he's dizzy.

He's in no shape to argue when Makoto picks him up in his strong arms, bridal style. It's the second time that's happened, and a little part of him wants to object, to be irritated that Makoto insists on carrying him around like a girl. He might not be a giant like Makoto, but he's a big, strong, athletic guy, and being carried around like that makes him feel a little uncomfortably, well, feminine.

Which is probably stupid. Being picked up and carried doesn't make him any less of a guy, after all. It's just one of Makoto's many ways of taking care of him. He relaxes into it, resting his head on Makoto's shoulder, and lets himself enjoy it.

Makoto places him gently onto the bed and leans over him. It's so dark Haru can't see his face, and he utters a soft complaint.

"I wanted to watch you, Mako-chan."

"I know." Makoto brushes his hair off his forehead and drops a kiss there. "You'll just have to feel me, Haru. And listen."

Oh. _Something a little different._ He gets it now. If he can't see, he'll have to use his other senses. Turning his head, he presses his face into Makoto's neck and breathes in the sunlight-and-meadow scent of his skin. Makoto smells like summer, like tall grass and hakuto jelly and the salt spray of the sea pounding against the shore.

Makoto's hands move across his body, tugging off Haru's shirt and tossing it aside. And then his mouth brushes over Haru's chin and moves slowly downward, and Haru hears himself sighing with anticipation.

Makoto covers him in soft, gentle kisses from his throat to the sensitive skin beneath his navel, and every now and again he moves up the bed and kisses Haru on the mouth, deeply but tenderly. His lips are warm and gentle rather than sexy, but Haru can't stop himself from moaning softly anyway. A strange emotion swells in his chest, more than lust, more than affection, more than friendship. It feels like glowing sunlight, radiating outward from his core and filling him to overflowing.

Yes, he thinks. This is definitely what he was missing when they made love last night. Being kissed by Makoto this way, like he's fragile and infinitely precious, is what he wants more than anything in the world. It's even better than sex.

Hell, it's even better than _swimming._

He's still not sure, though, why Makoto wanted to do this in almost complete darkness. Just so it would be "a little different"? Or is there something else going through his mind?

Haru is practically melting into the sheets, but his back arches when Makoto's mouth closes over his nipple, and he utters a high-pitched cry of pleasure. His hands dig into the soft, rumpled hair, begging for more. Makoto nips him there, fairly sharply, and he writhes helplessly. In his jeans, his cock pulses with need, swelling uncomfortably against the fabric.

He tries to strangle his cries of pleasure, but Makoto has already figured out exactly how to make him crazy. He bites down a little harder, and Haru wails, his hips lifting right off the mattress. Abruptly he's throbbing and hot, and he has the embarrassing thought that he may just come in his jeans.

Makoto pulls away before he can crash over that edge, though, and draws back. He begins kissing Haru again, his lips following the same trails as before. But his mouth is open now, pressing hot, wet kisses against Haru's abdomen and chest and throat. It's still sweet, but there's no denying that the effect it has on Haru is different. He hears himself moaning more loudly, feels himself shaking with every caress of Makoto's lips, and the confinement of his jeans is becoming almost unbearable.

When Haru forces his heavy eyelids open, he can barely make out the other man's outline in the darkness, can barely see the shaggy head moving downward. He sucks air into his lungs desperately, wanting, _needing,_ his body overwhelmed by a breathless urgency. In the shadowy darkness, he sees Makoto's head lift, and then the big hands are warm on his abdomen, resting there for a moment. When they begin unfastening his jeans, tugging them down, Haru moans in relief and shifts on the bed, helping pull them off. He hears the soft thud of them hitting the floor, and the sound of his own breath coming in hard gasps as he waits.

Something warm and wet closes over him then. Makoto, he realizes, is mouthing him right through the thin fabric of his boxers. It's a weird sensation, not as intense as having Makoto's lips sucking on him directly. And yet through the cotton he can feel the warmth and the heat. It makes his back arch again, makes him grind out a frantic noise. Makoto's lips trail up and down, tracing his erection, and the sensations grow in intensity despite the cotton in the way. Haru thinks again that he's just going to lose it, that he's just going to come hot and hard, soaking his underwear through. The thought drags a shuddery, helpless moan from him.

Before long he feels something wetter on him. Makoto's tongue, sliding up and down. Even through the fabric it's so soft and so hot, and he sobs, his hands clutching the sheets. He hears himself starting to beg, _please_ and _yes_ and _ahhh Makoto I need..._

He isn't sure how Makoto always gets him to the point of begging with so little effort. Maybe he's just easy. But he's pretty sure it wouldn't be like this with anyone else. He doesn't crave anyone else's touch, doesn't long to breathe in the scent of anyone else's skin, doesn't ache for the feel of anyone else's body against his. If he's easy, he's only easy for Makoto.

The big, strong hands tug down his boxers, lifting them carefully over his sensitive flesh. Cool air hits his overheated erection, and he moans in relief and pleasure, spreading his thighs automatically. Makoto tosses his boxers away, and he waits, panting eagerly, aching for Makoto's mouth on him, any way Makoto wants.

There's a long silence, in which Haru can hear nothing except his own harsh, rapid panting, and Makoto's slightly more controlled breathing.

"Mako-chan?" he whispers at last. 

"I'm right here, Haru." The voice is above him, soft and gentle as always, but with a certain uncharacteristic tension. 

Haru stirs against the sheets. His hard-on is still twitching against his belly. "Please," he says, very softly. "I need you."

"In a little while, Haru. But first..." He takes Haru's hand in his and carefully drizzles something cool and thick onto the palm. Lube, Haru realizes. "First, I want you to touch yourself."

Haru blinks into the darkness. He can understand wanting to watch-- he remembers watching Makoto casually stroking himself, remembers how incredibly hot it was. But unless Makoto's night vision is a lot better than his own, tonight there won't be much to see.

"Uh," he says. "I don't think..."

"Touch yourself, Haruka." Makoto's voice takes on the particular note that Haru finds so hard to rebel against. "Slowly. And let me hear you."

Oh. _Something different._

Haru's cheeks heat a little, but he does as he's told, wraps his lube-slick hand around himself and squeezes gently. A white-hot bolt of pleasure shoots up his spine, and he whimpers.

"Not like that." Makoto sounds hoarse, like he's almost unbearably turned on. "I want to hear exactly how you feel, Haru."

Haru's hips move helplessly, driving his hard-on into his hand, and he throws his head back with a strangled cry.

"Better." Makoto's voice is a raw whisper. "Haru, oh, Haru, I..."

The words trail off, but Haru knows perfectly well what Makoto was about to say. _Haru, I love you._

For the first time he begins to understand why they're doing this in the dark. It's not like last night, when Makoto tried so hard to maintain control that he lashed out a little. No, it's just that Makoto still feels vulnerable and exposed, and he's trying to protect himself. Because Makoto's eyes have always been the windows to his soul, as the old saying goes.

Makoto's eyes always say everything he's feeling, even if he never opens his mouth. It's no wonder he's taken refuge in darkness.

The thought that Makoto almost blurted out those words a second time makes that strange warmth swell inside Haru again. He isn't sure what he's feeling, only that it feels like sunlight pressing against his skin from the outside, trying to push its way out. He's never felt anything quite like it before, and he decides it must be lust. Very intense lust.

What he needs, he decides, is more Makoto. All of Makoto.

"Makoto," he gasps. His hand moves up and down- slowly, because that's what Makoto told him to do. The slickness of his palm feels amazing against his aching, swollen flesh, but he isn't going to let this end so soon. "Mako-chan. Please. Take off your clothes."

He hears the soft _swoosh_ of a t-shirt being stripped off, the _shush_ of a zipper, the thud of jeans hitting the floor. His hand keeps moving on his own cock, in a steady, firm motion, until he's crying out on every downstroke. The thought that Makoto is probably naked now, completely bare and ready for him, makes him hot all over.

"Makoto," he whispers. "You too. Please."

There's the squirting sound of lube being poured out, the creaking of the bed as it shifts beneath a heavy body, and then the soft, slick sound of a hand sliding against skin. And then Makoto groans.

"Ahhhhh."

Haru gasps, and his hips move harder despite his efforts to control himself. All he can see is murky shadows, but in his mind's eye, he sees Makoto kneeling over him and jerking off, and the bright, vivid image makes his heart pound. The thought of Makoto coming all over him, the thought of sticky white ropes of come spattering over him, steals his breath away almost entirely. His spine arches, driving his cock into his fist harder than before, and he makes another strangled sound.

"Let me hear you, Haruka."

Makoto sounds breathless, but Haru can't disobey. He jerks himself harder, and lets his voice rise, lets himself cry out. He hears Makoto groaning above him, and the need for release coils deep inside him, aching and intense, until his balls are so taut they almost hurt.

He imagines Makoto's beautiful cock, flushed red with blood, pulsing hard and fast as it drips precome all over his hand, and the thought of it almost pushes him into an orgasm. He moans, his own cock twitching against his palm, spilling moisture. Oh, God, he's so close, and judging from Makoto's groans, he is too. The two of them are going to come together, and the thought of it makes Haru shudder violently. 

"Stop, Haru."

Makoto sounds more breathless than before, but Haru can't resist the pull of that voice. He lets go of himself with a gasp.

"Makoto. Please."

"You wanted to watch." There's the flare of a match, and a single candle beside the bed begins to glow. There's just enough light for Haru to see Makoto, looming over him. In the semi-darkness he looks like a Baroque painting by Rubens Haru once saw in a book, a figure lit by a single flame, cast into shadows but for a few details limned by candlelight. Haru thinks that any great painter would want Makoto, with his powerfully muscled body and handsome face, as a subject, and he's suddenly hit with the desire to paint him this way himself. He doubts he can do Makoto justice, though. He's not sure any painter could accurately capture how beautiful the other man is, or that any medium could convey the warmth in his eyes and the infectious joy of his smile.

His gaze drifts lower, and he notices a detail that's more suited to a porn movie than a Rubens painting. The wavering shadows make Makoto's cock look impossibly huge. It gleams in the light, wet and smooth and alluring. Haru can hardly restrain himself from reaching out and touching it.

Makoto notices the direction of his gaze. His big hand wraps around his own cock again and begins to pump, slowly. In the golden glow of candlelight, Haru can see precome pearling at the head, then slipping slowly down the thick shaft. He moans.

"Makoto," he says again, very softly. " _Please._ "

He isn't sure what he's asking for. All he knows is that he _wants._ But Makoto seems to understand him, because he stretches out on the bed and rolls over onto his back, and then he pulls Haru over, on top of him. Haru isn't used to being on top, and the feel of Makoto's big body sprawled out beneath him drags a whine from him. He wants-- he wants--

Instinctively, he rises up on his knees, seeking what he needs, heedless of the lack of lube or preparation, but Makoto's hands catch him by the hips and hold him still.

"Not tonight, Haru." The tenor voice is strained, like Makoto is achingly close to climax. "We've done it twice in two days. You've got to be sore."

In fact he is a little sore, but that doesn't stop him from longing for Makoto, wanting him deep inside. He's desperate to have Makoto filling him, stretching him, and he whimpers a plea, straining against Makoto's hold.

"No, Haruka." Makoto's voice is stronger, firmer. "Not tonight."

Haru heaves an irritated sigh, but quits struggling against Makoto's hands and allows the other man to guide him into what he wants. A moment later, he finds himself kneeling over Makoto, his knees braced on either side of the powerful upper thighs. Then Makoto tugs him down gently, until their bodies are flush. Their cocks brush together, and Haru moans.

"Tomorrow," Makoto says, his voice hoarse. "Tomorrow, I want to be inside you. Like this."

The words paint a new image in Haru's mind. Himself, kneeling over Makoto, sliding slowly down onto his cock, and riding it. Still the bottom, but in control of Makoto's pleasure. He imagines Makoto giving himself up entirely, trusting Haru completely, and the thought makes him shiver with a new kind of longing.

His hips move, pressing their bodies together more firmly, and Makoto tugs him down, until their lips meet.

The warmth in Haru's chest expands again, like sunlight breaking out from behind the clouds, and suddenly he's suffused with such profound emotion that he doesn't know what to do with it. He's accustomed to being... well, not emotionless, but stoic. Cool and collected and calm. But right now something is boiling over inside him, something so pure and intense that he isn't sure how to contain it.

He's overwhelmed by the taste of Makoto's mouth and the smell of his skin and the heat of his body. Their cocks rub together, slick and hot, and the sensation is almost more than Haru can bear. It's sheer physical pleasure, and yet at the same time it's somehow so much _more._ He cries out broken words, but Makoto is still kissing him, hard and deep, and the words rising out of the strange emotions surging inside him are smothered against Makoto's mouth.

Even though he's on top, he's not in charge, not entirely. Makoto's hands guide him, slowing him so that he doesn't rush heedlessly toward the finish line, making sure they both enjoy this. And when at last the sunlight in Haru's chest overflows and he comes in a shuddering rush of heat, any words he might have uttered disintegrate into helpless sobs of pleasure.

He hears Makoto moaning into his mouth a few seconds later, feels the shaking of the big body beneath him, and he pulls away just a little, so he can watch Makoto's mouth fall open and his eyes drift shut, so he can watch the pure ecstasy on his face as he climaxes.

Afterward, while Makoto's breath is still coming in deep, unsteady gasps, Haru collapses onto the mattress next to him. Makoto turns his head toward him, his eyes slowly fluttering open, his mouth curving up at the corners. His rumpled hair is haloed with gold from the candlelight, and his eyes are bright with happiness, making him more beautiful than ever. To Haru he looks like like a fallen angel, one who's just discovered the joys of earthly pleasures.

They exchange sleepy smiles, then slide their arms around each other, their lips meeting again. For a long while, they continue sharing long, deep kisses, their mouths pressed together like nothing more needs to be said.

And maybe it doesn't. Not tonight, anyway.

Maybe, just maybe, this is enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I originally had Haru thinking of a Renaissance painting that showed someone lit by a single candle. I was thinking of paintings by Caravaggio, who did a lot of chiaroscuro (light and dark) paintings, but when I poked around Google a little, I found that the painting I was probably remembering was actually "Night Scene," by Peter Paul Rubens, a Baroque artist. I have edited to correct this.


	14. Chapter 14

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are, at the end of this long, rambling tale-- or at least this part of it. Thanks to my lovely readers for all the kind words and kudos. I really, really, REALLY appreciate it!

Haruka is thirteen, and he is scared.

He watched his parents drive away this afternoon in a cloud of dust, and now he's all alone except for a frail old lady he doesn't know very well. His grandmother bade him good night an hour or so ago, and the house is dark and quiet-- so quiet that he can hear his own heart thudding. He's curled up like a small stray cat beneath the covers, curled up so tightly that his nose almost touches his knees. Usually he finds this position calming, but tonight it isn't helping much. He can still hear the sound of his blood rushing in his ears.

At last he realizes he isn't going to get any sleep tonight. He's too unsettled. He climbs to his feet, pulls on the clothes he left in an uncharacteristically messy heap on the floor, and slips from his bedroom, padding quietly out into the night. It's black outside, but as his eyes adjust he can see the stars gleaming above, glittering like diamonds against ebony velvet. A cool breeze brushes his cheeks and ruffles his hair, and his heart slows. He stands there a moment, listening to the chirping of the night chorus of insects, and the muted roar of the waves pounding the shoreline.

The ocean calls to him. He's been told many times not to swim in it all alone, let alone at night, but he needs the solace of water right now, needs it more than he needs air. He turns to go down the stone stairs--

Only to trip, and almost fall, over a figure huddled there.

He gives a startled yip. "Makoto!"

Makoto blinks up at him like he's half asleep. A calico cat is curled at his feet, and she blinks up at Haruka too, then slowly gets to her feet and disappears noiselessly into the night. Makoto doesn't seem to notice his furry friend has left. His big eyes are focused on Haruka.

"Hi," he says, like it's perfectly normal for him to be sitting on the Nanases' doorstep in the middle of the night. "I was waiting for you."

"Waiting--" Haruka sputters with indignation at the thought of his friend sitting out here in the cool night breeze for who knows how long. "Why didn't you just come in?"

"Mom said I couldn't, not tonight. She said you needed--" Makoto's voice takes on a stiff, mocking adult cadence. "Time To Adjust. She said I should Leave You To Deal With This On Your Own." His voice shifts back to his own quiet tones. "But I knew the first thing you'd do to work it out, would be to head for the beach."

Haruka glares down at him, angry, defiant. "I'm going to swim."

"Fine." Makoto rises to his feet, calm and unflappable as ever. "I'll go with you."

"Don't be stupid. You're scared of the ocean."

"I'm more scared of you drowning. It's dark, Haruka."

To his surprise, the name makes him flinch, like Makoto slapped him across the face unexpectedly. It's girly and embarrassing, and he's never liked it much. But now he discovers that he actually hates it. He can't help but remember his own voice, blurting out a desperate plea: _Don't go. I love you, Mom. I do._

And the words, the only words, she'd said in return.

_Oh, Haruka._

He knows he'll never hear his name again without thinking of his mom, and the way she left him standing there in a cloud of dust. He's pretty sure she's never coming back. She's in a distant city, far away ( _haruka kanata,_ he thinks with angry irony, and the phrase only makes him hate his name worse than ever). He might never see her again, and his chest aches like it's filled with ice.

"Haru," he says gruffly. "Just call me Haru from now on, okay?"

Makoto blinks at him, then shrugs. "Okay." His mouth curls up at the corners in a mischievous small smile. "Haru-chan."

Haruka-- Haru-- knows his friend is trying to distract him by annoying him with the old childhood nickname. Oddly enough, it works. Or maybe it's that little smile that makes a tiny glow of warmth light in his chest. It isn't enough to melt the ice inside him, but it helps a little.

"Drop the -chan," he says, trying to sound irritated and not succeeding in the least. Makoto grins.

"Let's go down to the ocean," he answers.

Haru sighs. He knows perfectly well he won't be able to jump into the water and swim away, not as long as Makoto is there. His friend would almost certainly insist on coming in to keep him safe, regardless of the dark and the solitude and the crashing waves, and Haru can't put Makoto through that. But the distant, rhythmic sound of the ocean is a siren song and a lullaby all at once, and he can't stay entirely away from it, either. He decides that at least they can walk along the shore together.

Water, he thinks, is comforting, soothing. But as much as he loves the water, he knows it doesn't care about him, not really. The water always welcomes him when he dives into it, always supports him, but if he grew careless or tired, it would pull him down into its dark depths just as readily. Not out of malice, but simply due to sheer disinterest. The ocean is vast and impersonal and unimaginably deep, its shifting, dangerous waters covering most of the planet, and a small boy named Nanase Haruka means absolutely nothing to it.

But tiny and irrelevant though he might be in the grand scheme of things, he knows he means something to Makoto. His friend defied his parents and slipped out tonight, waiting for him in the cool evening air for heaven only knows how long. His friend is determined to watch over him, to prevent him from doing something foolish like swimming alone. His friend is always there for him, and always will be.

Even if no one else on Earth cares for him, Makoto cares. Makoto knows how he's feeling, how badly he's hurting tonight. And the certainty that his friend understands him is every bit as comforting and soothing as a swim in the water would be.

He reaches out and takes Makoto's hand, the way he used to when they were little, and Makoto's fingers wrap around his.

Hand in hand, they run down the stone staircase and head for the beach, and Haru feels the warmth in his chest expand, driving away the worst of the cold. His parents are gone, and of course he's still terribly sad about it, but he no longer feels quite so scared and lost and alone.

He has Makoto.

****

Haru awakens to darkness. The dream-memory is still vivid in his head, his chest still filled with that comfortable warmth, and he wonders sleepily what woke him up. Makoto's breathing is slow and steady, his arm heavy around Haru's waist. There's an annoying buzzing sound, a dim glow lighting the ceiling, and Haru fights his way out of the sleep fog enough to figure out that someone has texted him.

He'd dug his phone out of his discarded jeans and put it next to the bed when the two of them cleaned up after the evening's activities, so he gropes around blindly on the nightstand, and eventually finds where he dropped it. Naturally the text is from Rin, who's always been something of a night owl.

_-Hey Haru, figured it out yet?-_

Haru shifts, rolling onto his back as carefully as possible, so as not to awaken Makoto. He considers the question carefully, and taps out an answer.

_-I've figured out some things, yeah. Tonight I realized I don't want to be like the water.-_

A long pause.

_-wtf are you talking about Haru-_

Haru pauses, struggling to figure out the words to express something that's totally clear inside his head. At last he types, _-I love the water, but it doesn't love me back.-_

He can almost hear Rin's annoyed sigh. _-It's always water with you isn't it Haru?-_

Haru scowls, and tries harder. He's not good with language, and never has been, but he has the certainty that this is something he really needs to manage to put into words. Not so much for Rin as for himself. Emotions are complicated, hard for him to pin down with precision, but he needs to clearly understand what he's feeling, or he and Makoto are never going to be able to move forward. He types rapidly, forgetting about punctuation in his rush to explain himself.

_-I'm serious_  
_The water accepts me_  
_It tolerates me_  
_It even welcomes me_  
_But when I leave... it doesn't miss me.-_

He thinks about it, and adds:

_-The water doesn't feel anything at all_  
_I don't want to be like the water all my life, Rin-_

Another long pause. At last Rin responds, _-I don't think you're really like that Haru-_

Haru stares into the darkness, remembering a voice from long ago: _He's totally incapable of feeling love or affection._ The words feel like a weight pressing onto him, holding him down. At last he taps out a slow response.

_-My father thought I was-_

Rin answers with quick, defensive indignation. _-Your father was wrong. You've never been that way, not deep down-_

The weight Haru feels seems to lighten at his friend's instant and wholehearted support. _-Hope so,-_ he answers.

_-I mean you feel a lot for Makoto don't you?-_

_-Yeah_  
_I do_  
_But I think I still don't know what love is_  
_Not exactly-_

He can almost see Rin rolling his eyes. _-Like I said before you're overthinking it Haru-_

_-Maybe_  
_The thing is, Miss Ama-chan once told our class that love is patient and kind_  
_That's Makoto, but it isn't me_  
_I'm almost never patient, and I'm not especially kind_  
_I thought maybe I was incapable of love, because I knew I could never be patient and kind all the time_  
_Not even with Makoto-_

_-Screw that_  
_I'm not patient or kind either_  
_But I love Sousuke-_

Haru remembers how Rin was the captain of the Samezuka team last year, how he worked with all the younger kids on the team. How he helped Rei learn how to swim different strokes, even though he had no obligation to do so. He thinks Rin is a hell of a lot more patient and kind than he gives himself credit for. Still, he's willing to admit that when he thinks of Rin, _patient_ and _kind_ are not the first two words he thinks of.

He goes on, struggling to explain his thoughts more thoroughly.

_-There's more to that quote tho_  
_I looked it up_  
_It says, love always protects, always trusts, always hopes, always perseveres_  
_And I thought, well, some of that sounds a little like me-_

He pauses to think about what he's trying to get across, then continues:

_-So maybe love is more complicated than I thought_  
_Just like people are_  
_I mean, maybe it's patient and kind like Makoto, but also cranky and weird and inarticulate, like me-_

There's a pause. At last Rin answers. 

_-I still feel like you're overthinking this Haru_  
_Love isn't something you can reason out_  
_It's a feeling_  
_How do you FEEL about Makoto?-_

Haru considers that. He remembers the lovely, deep emotion bubbling up in his chest tonight while they were making love, the glowing warmth that felt too intense, too enormous, to be contained inside his body. Was that love, or was it just lust?

Suddenly he recalls his dream, the memory of what happened when he was thirteen and his parents left him behind in Iwatobi. It really did happen like that, more or less, and he vividly remembers how being with Makoto, holding Makoto's hand, drove away the lingering chill in his chest. And when his grandmother died, three years later, Makoto's steady, comforting presence had helped to melt the ice inside him then, too.

The warmth in his chest. That's how he feels about Makoto. Is that love?

He knows love has to be more complicated than that, but the glow of warmth that Makoto makes him feel is the most obvious symptom, as Rei would put it. He taps out the words, finding them easy enough to type.

 _-When I'm with him_  
_I feel like I've swallowed the sun- _  
__

There's a long pause, like Rin is sitting there, staring blankly at his phone's screen. At last Haru adds, a little shyly, _-Is that weird?-_

 _-it's different,-_ Rin answers. _-but that's you. youve never been exactly like everyone else, figures you wouldnt fall in love quite the same way as everyone else either-_

He adds, _-doesnt mean you love any less tho-_

 _-I'm not sure I'm in love,-_ Haru almost answers, but thinks better of it. Who's he trying to kid, anyway? If he feels like his chest is bursting with sunlight every time he's with Makoto, what else could that possibly mean?

It's either love, or a tremendously bad case of heartburn.

He figures love must be more than just a simple physical sensation, though. Love is everything he and Makoto have been through together. Love is the hand waiting for him at the edge of the pool, but it's also the hand grabbing his wrist as Makoto yells at him, stopping him from running away, forcing him to see that sooner or later, he has to make a decision about his life. Love is Makoto's body moving in his, fast and hard, but it's also Makoto lying next to him in bed, snoring softly. Love is Makoto holding his wrists over his head as their bodies become one, and Makoto holding him against his chest as he cries.

Their lives have always been so intertwined, but lately they've become even more so, like they're threads that are slowly being woven together into a single fabric. The complex tangle of their lives together, winding around each other more every day, like tendrils of ivy wrapping around a hyacinth...

Haru figures that's love.

Anyway, he knows perfectly well that words rose up inside him when the two of them made love. He hadn't managed to utter them, mostly because his tongue had been otherwise occupied, but he could feel them trying to burst out of him. And... he knows what the words were. Despite his deep-seated, long-held inhibition against saying those words, he _knows._

He can't begin to explain all that to Rin, and he isn't quite ready to admit to the full depth of his feelings yet, anyway. But he tries to convey a little of what he's thinking, because Rin deserves that much, after all the help he's given Haru over the past few days. Very slowly, he types out a message.

_-I think I've learned something about love, Rin-_

He imagines Rin's rose-red eyes lighting up. _-Oh yeah? what?-_

Haru glances over at the shadowy form that is Makoto, lit only by the glow of the smartphone screen. In sleep, his face is peaceful, more beautiful than ever, and Haru feels that familiar warmth swelling in his chest. He taps out words. 

_-I realized this tonight_  
_That even if you can't say the words_  
_It happens anyway-_

There's a long, long pause. At last Rin responds.

_I knew you'd figure it out eventually, Haru_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Of course we can't end this story without Haru actually SAYING those three little words. Also, we still need to go on that date with Makoto and Haru, and furthermore, only a very heartless writer would leave Sousuke sitting there alone in his childhood bedroom. Obviously there are still some loose threads that need to be woven together, so there will be a sequel, called "Light."
> 
> Once again, thanks for all the comments and kudos! They are more appreciated than you know!
> 
> You can visit me at gemwrites.tumblr.com.


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